The incredible Greg
by Zaxarus
Summary: How could reading a comic change Greg Goyle's first year? What does he really think about his boss Draco? About Vince? And what will be Snape's part in this? Humorous one-shots about the dumb duo. Year 3 finished.
1. Chapter 1 Her knight in shining armour

_**A/N**_

_This is a little one-shot I had on my mind for some time. I hope you'll enjoy it. Perhaps I'll write a second part later. It is very AU and not meant to be taken very seriously._

_**This story has nothing to do with my HP/DG trilogy.**_

**.**

**Her knight in shining armour**

.

_**Hogwarts – 31**__**st**__** of October 1991**_

.

"_You're big and ugly," the Torch mocked him "an ugly duckling, but far too big and heavy to ever be cute."_

_The Thing growled and tried to grab him, punch him and teach him a lesson, but the little bug dodged his huge hands with ease. Instantly he went aflame and the Thing flinched back. He didn't like the heat as even he felt the burn. As he tried to dodge the flames, he crashed into a table and toppled it, breaking off a leg. _

"_Ugly, dumb and clumsy, my, are you ill-fated." With a last laugh the Torch went to the air and left, leaving behind an angry man who thought him to be a friend – most of the times at least._

.

"Keep quiet!"

Gregory Goyle – called Greg by his friends, actually only by Vincent 'Vince' Crabbe – flinched under the glaring look of his boss.

"_You have to obey and protect him,"_ his father had ordered him before he left for Hogwarts. And Greg always followed his father's wishes. To do otherwise only meant pain – and fewer meals. Officially the fathers of Vince and Greg were friends of Lucius Malfoy, Patriarch of House Malfoy. But even Greg understood that they were more akin to lackeys, certainly not on par with their 'friend'. A single look from Lucius Malfoy was enough to send his father – who otherwise behaved like the king of the world – scrambling away, eager to please him in any way possible.

Like father like son – Greg and Vince weren't Draco's friends, not really. He treated them worse than house-elves and more than once Greg had dreamed about putting his ham-sized fist into Draco's smirking face. He had no delusions about the outcome of a magical fight between them – Greg was hardly able to create enough light with a _Lumos_ spell to read something – but in a brawl he would knock him out with a single haymaker. That was exactly the reason why Draco spent time with Vince and him: He needed bodyguards.

Usually both boys followed him silently, glaring at everyone that dared to oppose him, eager to attack even older boys on a whim like little pit bulls. They weren't allowed to speak, they weren't allowed to express an opinion, or even think. Sometimes Greg felt like a man-trained dog. Now they were sitting a row behind Draco and Pansy, who were struggling to learn the _Wingiardum_ spell while pretending to be bored by 'all this easy nonsense' because Draco allegedly already learned so much more from his father.

He was partially right… Draco, like all of his friends, got spell-training from his parents since he received his wand. However, with his eleventh birthday in June and being one of the youngest students of his year, he hadn't gotten much time to actually learn something before school started – this and his spoiled, lazy preposition prevented him from being the wizard he pretended to be. He was still far better than Greg and Vince and the gap widened with every day, however he was no match for someone like Daphne – a girl Greg adored and feared at the same time – or…

Greg glanced to the left. He was struggling with the spell, certainly not a first. Vince was struggling too, equally no news there. Several times they started to ask Pansy and Draco for help, but that only earned them a vicious tongue-lashing. Greg sometimes wondered if Draco was only annoyed by them or if he simply wanted them to be stupid. He wasn't certain. Daphne would certainly have been able to help him, but she was so unapproachable all the time and her looks clearly told him what she thought of him – of his talent, his intellect and his graceless manners and body. Yes, Greg may be a bit on the slow side, but he spent much time thinking about all kind of things – time he was forced to stay silent because Draco ordered him to. Greg sighed, which earned him another glare. Luckily Professor Flitwick was too close and even Draco didn't dare to say something right now. So who else? Millie was pants with Charms as well, perhaps even worse than the hulking duo. Pansy wouldn't help him as long as Draco was near, despite being much friendlier when he wasn't around. This left only…

He glanced to the left again. The Mudblood and the Blood Traitor were sitting there. He hated them, both of them. Draco told him to and he had to obey. Still, there was Professor Flitwick and he watched Greg and Vince with this sad look again, as if he knew that they would never be able to make the feather fly.

"…if you know everything then let us see how you do it…" The Blood Traitor hissed. Greg frowned. You didn't speak to a girl like this. He wasn't certain if the Mudblood was a real girl, but she looked like one. She had patiently tried to teach Blood Traitor how to cast the spell. _She's a far better friend to him than Draco to me_, Greg pouted. BT – as he decided to call Ron Weasley in his head from now on – was as bad as Greg in Charms, a realization that made him snicker.

"You think this is funny?" BT growled, his outburst causing Mudblood to lose her concentration. As a result her feather fell to the table again, causing BT's frown to change into a smirk. At least he lost his interest in Greg. "See? You aren't any better, bucktooth."

With a harrumph the girl sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. She seemed to be near tears, something Greg didn't want to see, feeling a bit guilty because he distracted her. It wasn't nice to mock her because of her teeth. His aunt had a big nose and she hated to be ridiculed because of it. This still left him with the problem of today's lesson.

_What would 'He' do in this situation?_ He asked himself. Greg grinned. _'He' would trash the room and whop BT with his own arm_. Greg sighed again, ignoring Draco's hiss this time. He would pay for that later, he knew. Greg narrowed his eyes and tried to think. Professor Flitwick wouldn't allow him to punch BT. However – Greg widened his eyes. Mudblood wanted to help. Greg needed help. Professor Flitwick liked cooperation. A bit hastily he turned around and put his big hand on Mudblood's shoulder, forgetting for a second that he could get her germs – whatever they were.

The girl flinched as if he hit her. "Wha…"

"Help?"

The girl frowned, clearly not understanding.

"You help me…" He made a circling gesture towards the feather. By now half the class watched them with interest, most of them angry like BT or disgusted like Draco. The only one smiling was Professor Flitwick. Greg simply didn't care right now. He wanted to do this, make his feather fly. He liked magic, liked to cast spells despite being mostly useless at it. He was a wizard too, was he not?

"You want me to help you with the Wingiardum spell?"

"Yes," Greg eagerly nodded. She watched him with narrowed eyes, clearly pondering his plea.

Greg looked a bit like a lost puppy, waiting for a moment before he added with his face a mask of concentration as he tried to remember his lessons in good behaviour: "please?"

Mudblood's face softened and to his surprise she responded positive: "alright, show me what you've got so far".

.

_With incredible thunder The Thing smashed into Rhino, his superior power hurling the villain away across the street and right into the next building. Stunned by the attack, Rhino needed some time to come to his senses, shook his head while standing up again._

"_Not so haughty anymore are you?" The Thing asked, his thick arms crossed in front of his powerful chest._

.

Greg stood up, put his comic on the sink and tried to imitate the gesture, comparing the picture in the comic with what he saw in the mirror. It wasn't the first time he imitated his big hero, despite his father's opinion. He didn't like to think about his father and how he would react to this pastime, not in moments like this where he was "The incredible Greg".

_I could be a hero too_, Greg mused, glancing at the picture again. _I'm strong too_.

With dismay he noticed a drop of water on the page of the comic. Hastily he lifted it and carefully dried it with a handkerchief, showing a concern with the comic he had more than once noticed on Granger around her beloved books. Greg liked his comics very much. No, truthfully said he actually loved them, adored the heroes in them and wanted to be like them. First it had been Hulk. Josh, his cousin or something who was living in New York, had sent him his first comic years ago as a birthday gift.

_He reminded me of you_, the note told. Greg never got to know whether Josh meant the size, the temper or whatever else he shared with the Hulk. However, he didn't care. Comics were better than books. They had fewer words and if he was unable to understand a sentence, the pictures explained fairly well what was happening.

His father had instantly burned the comic and forbidden to ever again read this 'dirty Muggle nonsense'. Greg had been heart-broken. He had tried to get his hands on another one, but with his family staying clear of anything Muggle and shops like Flourish &amp; Blotts not selling anything like this, it had been impossible – impossible until Josh sent him another one several months later. Greg had been more careful this time and hid the comic. Only at night or when his father was away with his friends – mostly doing lowly errands for Lucius Malfoy – did he dare to retrieve it from its hidden stash and enjoy it. It was those hours he lived for, hours when he wasn't 'Greg the big, dumb boy without any talent' but 'Greg the Incredible'.

Like everything nice that happened to him, it ended – far too soon and with an ugly bang.

Draco had noticed the comic and despite Greg's frantic urges his 'friend' ran straight to his father. Merlin, had he gotten a beating. Naturally the comic had been burned. Actually, his father had forced him to burn it himself.

He had been depressed for weeks – depressed and angry towards Draco, his 'friend'.

.

_The woman screamed in fear. She was wedged under the steel beam and the fire got closer with every second. No way to escape, nobody there to help. At least that was what she thought, already settling her affairs with no hope left to survive this mayhem._

_Only then did she notice the broad-shouldered figure stomping towards her. The woman screamed again, this time because a part of the wall came crushing down on the man. He simply shouldered it away and continued towards her. For a moment she flinched back as she noticed his stony skin. His broad smile certainly didn't help to ease her, but The Thing didn't hesitate. He would help her, irrespective of what she thought of him. He didn't do this for friendship, but because it was the right thing to do._

_His large, shovel-like hands grabbed the steel beam and lifted it like a children's toy. Tossing it aside, he offered the woman a hand to help her up. For a moment she hesitated. Then she accepted his hand and his help._

_Her smile was dazzling._

.

In the beginning it had been the Hulk, but later his favourite turned out to be The Thing. He was nearly as strong as Hulk, but far nicer. He had a big, soft heart, was able to make friends and, while not as intelligent as Mister Fantastic, he certainly had brains too. Greg often imagined being like his hero, helping people, smashing the villains and getting adoring smiles from everyone in return. He never got smiles, even less adoring ones. The Gryffindors glared, the Slytherins despised him and the other Houses showed neutral ignorance at best.

It didn't help that Draco wasn't a Mister Fantastic. He thought too much of himself and wasn't half as intelligent as he claimed to be. Certainly he was neither a boss nor a friend like Mister Fantastic would be.

Speaking of friends – BT was even worse than Draco at that. Mudblood had been very helpful and patient. In the end Greg had actually been able to cast the spell. Sure, his feather hadn't been very steady in its flight and only moved up from the table for about two feet. It was still far more than he had thought possible and even earned him congratulations from Professor Flitwick. Draco had been disgusted. BT had been furious. After the lesson he had yelled at the girl, called her a bucktoothed know-it-all without any friends. Unable this time to hold back her tears, Mudblood had run away. None of her housemates stopped her. None of them tried to placate her or scolded BT for his behaviour_. Shouldn't the bloody Gryffindors be… I don't know… nicer?_

Draco had been furious too, but Greg was used to that. He had endured the yelling and the stinging hexes, braved the usual belittling and agreed as expected when Draco ordered him to never again do something like this. Afterwards he had shrugged and continued his normal life as a brainless hulking shadow. Everything was as it was meant to be.

Greg had no idea how much his life would change because of one small silly idea – an idea and a comic.

.

"_I would like to see your face."_

_The woman was standing at his side on the roof garden. The smell of flowers filled the air and rain had washed the sky clean from the fumes of the city._

"_No, you wouldn't," the Thing responded sadly. "I'm ugly."_

"_For me you are not." With a soft gesture she placed her hand on his skin. He expected her to flinch back but she didn't. Her dazzling smile actually broadened – the smile below her blind eyes._

.

"She has been in there since Charms," Parvati told her friend Lavender. "She's still crying and doesn't want to get out."

"It's her own fault," Lavender responded without remorse. She didn't like Granger and never would. "She shouldn't have spoken with that brute."

Neither girl knew they were passing by Greg who was in one of his hiding places. He had left after Charms, allegedly to train a bit. Actually he did that quite often, had even got Madam Hooch's help with setting up a little training area near the Quidditch field. He used something he once saw in an American Football film as a model – not that his father or Draco knew about that part. Madam Hooch had realized it but had not uttered a word.

She was actually one of only two teachers showing any respect towards Greg, even going as far as training Vince and him, urging them to try out as beaters next year. The second one was Madam Sprout. Perhaps it was her kind nature. Perhaps it was because Greg was surprisingly gentle and careful with the plants. In any case, she was always friendly to him. Hagrid could have been the third teacher in this little group. However, Greg was mean towards him like he was expected to from his boss, with Draco always mocking the half-breed. Greg didn't like this. He would prefer far more to speak with the big man about creatures of all kinds as he really liked the subject, and even intended to choose it in third year – if Draco allowed it.

Yes, he was training quite often, wanted to stay fit at least, even if he had no hope to ever get graceful or something that could be called agile. He liked to be sweaty, his heart pumping. It gave him a feeling of being alive, of having accomplished something and not being worthless. Sometimes however he used those hours to slink away. His beloved comic hidden under his robes, he went to one of his hiding places and relived the adventures of his big hero. In those hours he was mighty as well. He was a hero, respected and adored. Villains would fear him. Heroes would try to imitate him – try and fail hopelessly, as he was unmatchable. He was Greg the Incredible.

Vince was the only one knowing about his dirty little secret, but he didn't tell. Vince, like Greg, didn't like how Draco treated them. He had different dreams than Greg but still he had dreams too about a better future. However, he behaved like expected: a well-trained little servant. He would never defend Greg from Draco's wrath but at least he wouldn't betray him either. It was one of the reasons Greg saw a real friend in him – a friend and not a boss or an ally.

Greg glanced at the girls and followed her gesture. Patil – the silly one not the bright and nice one that once helped him in Astronomy – pointed towards the girl lavatory. The girls slowly left, their conversation turning to the Halloween party that would start very soon. The Halloween party! Greg's eyes widened. He was already a bit late. Draco would be waiting for him in the Slytherins' common room. For a moment his eyes returned to the lavatory's door. He had this weird feeling again – guilt. It was his fault that she was hiding therein – partially at least. Without him asking her for help, BT would have left her alone.

Greg sighed. It wasn't like he could help her. She wouldn't appreciate his presence. Hell, he couldn't even enter the room. It was a girls' lavatory. _She'll cope_, he mused with a shrug of his broad shoulders. _She doesn't need me_. Carefully hiding his comic under his robes again, he scrambled away.

_Time to party!_

.

He hated it.

He hated to run around like this.

Draco had forced Vince and him to change into this stupid something. What did he call it? Roman gladiator something. They wore a kind of linen shorts, sandals and leather bands around their chests. Oil had been rubbed into their skin and now looked like some cage animal. At least the oil protected him from the cold. Why couldn't he go as a super hero? No, he had to look silly – again. He had to follow Draco and Pansy around who posed as Roman nobles. If Greg wanted to know how silly he looked – and why even BT, who was wearing an ugly Chudley Cannons jersey, was smirking – he had only to glance at Vince.

His friend stoically endured the humiliation but Greg slowly felt his heckles rising.

He hated it.

.

The door to the Great Hall banged open and someone stumbled into the hall, down the free aisle between the rows of Gryffindor and Slytherin. Greg needed a moment to recognize Professor Quirrell. He looked very paled and ill. He staggered.

"A Troll…"

Greg pricked up his ears.

"A Troll in the dungeons."

Quirrell took another few steps and went down in a heap before anybody could catch him. Apparently he had feinted.

"Everybody stay calm."

Greg sighed. The un-calmest one in the hall was Headmaster Dumbledore himself.

"The staff will search the castle for the intruder. Prefects, lead the students back to your common rooms. Keep calm and stay together. No wandering around; leave nobody behind."

Greg rolled his eyes. Draco and Pansy were whispering frantically about the seriousness of the story. Had Quirrell actually seen a troll or was he imagining things? Why did he faint? Wasn't he supposed to be at the front line to fight the creature, being DADA teacher and all?

_Leave nobody behind._

Greg came to a sudden stop. Someone slammed into his back and started to curse. Greg ignored him like he ignored Vince's questioning look.

_Leave nobody behind._

He hastily looked around towards the Gryffindors. BT was there as were his brothers, his oldest gathering their housemates. He saw Potter as well and a few others. Longbottom the clumsy one was there, Patil and that flower-named girl chattering like mad. However, he saw no bushy-haired head_. I wouldn't overlook her, would I?_ Despite her petite size she normally was hardly to miss, mostly because of her mass of hair and her loud voice. Mudblood never stopped to speak and in a moment like this it would hardly change.

_She isn't there_, Greg realized. _She's still in the lavatory_.

Without thinking he changed directions, pushed through the ranks of his housemates, ignoring the complaints, hisses and insults.

_It's my fault she's there. She was only being nice and now the troll will kill here._

He scampered away. Somewhere behind him Vince called his name. One of the Slytherin prefects did the same. Greg didn't listen. None of the Gryffindors cared. He had heard the girls. They would be relieved to see Mudblood killed. It was so unfair. He was despised because of his lack of intellect. She was scorned because she had too much of it. Nobody lifted a finger to safe her. Nobody turned around to help him.

Greg pushed the door open and left the hall.

They were all alone in this.

.

_He felt so exhausted, deathly exhausted. Blood was dripping down from his shoulder – or the fluid that worked as blood for him. Doctor Octopus was a hell of an opponent. He had already knocked out Mister Fantastic; he dowsed the Torch with water from a torn off hydrant. Now Susan tried to rescue her brother and her beloved husband while he had to distract this overwhelming villain._

_The Thing glanced around. The street looked like a war zone. Dozens of cars were burning or lying around like broken toys. Hundreds of windows were shattered and a few smaller houses actually destroyed. At least there were no civilian casualties so far. _

_This won't change today, he promised silently. The Thing glared angrily at Doctor Octopus, who was ignoring him and looking around, certainly searching for the last member of the Fantastic four. You won't get her, the Thing snarled. She's like my little sister and you won't hurt her._

_Picking up a broken car like it weighed nothing, the Thing started to whirl around, doing circles with increasing speed, the car following his motions like a throwing hammer on a sports field. In a few seconds he won't ignore me anymore, the Thing grinned. He loosened his grip and like a missile the car advanced towards its destination._

.

"Blasted."

Greg cursed as he rounded the last corner only to see that BT and Scarhead had somehow been faster. Both boys were standing right in front of the lavatory, congratulating each other. _Blasted gits_. He wanted to be the hero, not them. Greg frowned. Something was wrong. If they had already taken care of the problem, where was Mudblood?

"What are you doing here, Crabbe?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "I'm Goyle. Crabbe is the other one." _They were meant to be the clever one and couldn't even distinguish between Vince and him?_

"Whatever," Ron shrugged. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you hide in some rat hole?" He snickered, but Greg ignored him, instead addressing Scarhead who had been silent so far.

"Where is Mudblood?" He looked around. "And where is the troll?"

"Mudblood?" Harry asked. He had heard the insult once or twice, mostly used by Draco to hurt Hermione. Why did the Slytherin care? Had he been doing the same, looking for Hermione? It couldn't be.

Ron puffed his chest and drawled: "we've taken care of him. We locked him into the lavatory." He appeared to expect some kind of praise but actually got a big hand grabbing his robes and pushing him into the wall.

"You did what?" Greg fumed.

"Let me go, you damned snake," Ron growled and tried to break free. It was hopeless. Greg was far stronger thanks to his training and right now he was more than pissed, both by the boy's stupidity as well as his dream of being Greg the Incredible shattering around him.

"Idiot," Greg growled but actually let go, only to hurry towards the door. Fruitlessly he tried to open it, getting only mocking laughter from Ron. "Told you we locked him in. Who's the idiot now?"

"Open it," Greg ordered.

"Why should we?" Ron asked, ignoring the simple fact that he couldn't do it in any case as he had to rely on Harry for the spell casting.

"Because Mudblood was in there, crying because of you worthless worm," Greg fumed, his voice getting louder with every word.

"Mudblood? You mean Hermione?" Harry asked deathly pale. He had convinced Ron to search for her. Had he now caused her death?

"Mudblood. Granger. Bushy hair, big teeth. Helps everyone, even stupid prats and evil snakes." Greg kicked the door. "Now open the blasted door."

"He's lying, Harry." Ron tried to stop his friend. "You can't trust…"

A ham-sized fist stopped his complaints. It was a single twist of the body, a single heave of the broad shoulders, before strong muscles hurled Greg's hand into Ron's face like he had imagined more than once – only that it had been Rhino or some other villain he imagined at the end of his power punch.

Slightly shocked Harry watched his red-haired friend go down in a heap. A single haymaker had knocked him out cold. He only came to his senses as Greg shook his shoulders. "Open the door, Scarhead."

With a last glance towards Ron, Harry complied.

.

"Alohomora."

His voice was a bit shaky but he succeeded at casting the spell nonetheless, the spell he had learned right from the girl he wanted to rescue now – together with a Slytherin to add. As the door opened, a girl's scream greeted them, evaporating the last doubts he may have felt. The scream greeted them and an incredible smell. Hurrying into the lavatory, they heard a crashing noise. Something wooden shattered and seconds later Harry's heart nearly stopped. The eleven-foot Troll was swinging a club longer than Harry around, destroying cubicle after cubicle while trying to fetch something scurrying around – something or someone.

_Hermione!_

*tonk*

"Ugh?"

*tonk*

The Troll stopped swinging his club and turned around, looking for the cause of his distraction.

*tonk*

Harry had to admit that he was impressed by Greg's aim. The Slytherin was standing right beside a shattered sink – the sight making Harry ill as he wondered what would happen should the creature hit someone with his club, someone like a first year student – and used the remaining fragments as missiles. The chunks didn't do any real damage, but apparently they annoyed the Troll at least, distracted him from his intended victim.

_What can I do? _Harry wondered, while observing how the Troll slowly turned around and advanced towards Goyle. Behind him Hermione became visible, completely in shock. She wouldn't be able to run away, Harry realized. None of the spells he knew would do any damage to a creature this size.

"You…" *tonk* "…stupid…" *tonk* "…heap…" *tonk* "…of shit."

The speech was neither nice nor extremely imaginative, but it did its job. Together with the renewed hail of stone missiles it was enough to let the Troll completely ignore Hermione – or Harry. Suddenly the Gryffindor had an epiphany, realizing the remains of the lavatory, the crashed sink beside the Troll, how he was moving.

Greg, who had felt so good for a few moments, who had felt like a real hero – one about whom could be stories written about – scowled as he watched Scarhead running towards the Troll. No, he wasn't running towards the Troll but towards the sink. _Don't_, he thought slightly angered_. This is my battle_. Harry naturally didn't know and wouldn't have listened anyway. He jumped on the sink and immediately followed up with a second jump, this time on the back of the Troll. With sheer determination he was able to get a grab and hold fast while trying to pull himself up high enough to reach his face. For a moment the Troll was confused, thinking about how to grab the nuisance while keeping his club in his hand.

_This is my battle_, Greg growled again, jumping forward and smashing the stone he had wanted to throw onto the big toe of the Troll. The Troll roared in pain and started to jump around. Harry had difficulties to hold on but still tried to get closer to his face.

Greg's eyes fell on Mudblood's face. She was still very frightened and deathly pale, but her eyes rested on Harry who was riding the Troll like a made bull. There was obvious concern in her eyes. _Why can't she look at me like this?_ Greg wondered sadly. His sadness turned into anger as he watched Scarhead shoving his wand into the Troll's nose, further distracting him. _I should leave them_, Greg thought_, _his mood deflating and his shoulders sacking. _She doesn't want me to be her hero_.

Harry was slowly getting ill from the mad ride. The Troll was still dancing and whirling around. He had long lost his club and tried to pick him off. He had no idea how to continue. Sooner or later the Troll would be able to get hold of him. With slight despair he noticed Greg walking away, apparently wanting to leave.

_You can't trust a Slytherin;_ he heard Ron's voice in his head. Harry shook his head. No, that wasn't right. Goyle had gone after Hermione. He wanted to rescue her. Without him they wouldn't have known…

"Goyle!"

Goyle stopped and turned around. What a sight to behold: Harry riding the Troll. All around them were the shattered remains of the lavatory. And over there was Mudblood cowering, staring at him with wide eyes. She only now seemed to really see him – see and recognize. She seemed surprised. _Why is she surprised?_ Greg wondered. _I'm her hero, am I not_?

Only he wasn't. He wasn't the incredible Greg. He was a little boy pouting because Scarhead dared to intrude into the fight he wanted to be his chance at becoming a hero. However, it wasn't about him. It was about her and what he had to do.

_He didn't do this for friendship, but because it was the right thing to do._

Something clicked in Greg's broad chest, like a switch turned in his mighty heart. His face turned into a masked of fury. His shoulders tensed. He got down in a hunched stance, one he had seen in the same film about football training. For a moment Harry and Hermione watched him curiously, their eyes widening as the Slytherin let out a mighty growl and started to run towards the Troll. His mighty legs pumping, one shoulder put slightly forward, he closed the gap with a dozen fast steps. The Troll, still trying to catch his involuntary rider, was completely caught by surprise. With a mighty crash the boy hurled himself against the Troll's leg like he had done so often with that Football obstacle, a kind of padded wooden rack. He hit the knee with the whole power of his not too puny body. It instantly buckled and the Troll started to topple.

"Jump away, Harry."

He instantly followed Hermione's command and felt his fall being slowed by her Wingiardum spell. The Troll on the other hand had nobody to slow him. He came crashing down, his head smashing against the sink – the same sink he had destroyed minutes ago. A last time the Troll groaned in pain before his body relaxed, caught in happy unconsciousness.

For a moment there was only silence.

.

"Blasted."

His head hurt like hell. With a low groan he opened his eyes and tried to take a look around.

"Easy man," he was stopped by a big hand. Greg knew this hand and voice well enough.

"Vince?"

"Who else?" His friend asked back with a grin.

_Yes, who else?_ Draco wasn't there and Pansy neither. He hadn't expected to see them but still felt disappointed. _Wouldn't a friend be there? A friend like Vince_.

"You alright?" Vince asked with some concern.

"Yeah," Greg answered, instantly regretting that he tried to nod. Slowly the memories returned. He had slammed into the Troll's knee. The Troll had toppled to the ground, smashing him into the stone floor with his immense weight. Luckily nothing seemed to be broken. Or Madam Pomfrey had already healed him. He still felt sore overall and it hurt everywhere.

Greg just wanted to ask Vince what happened to Mudblood and Scarhead as the door opened and Professor Snape entered the Hospital Wing. His black robes billowed behind him and he stepped nearer with wide, fast steps. His face didn't betray any emotion besides a light curiosity.

"You're awake, good. Feeling better, Mister Goyle?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Despite his snarky behaviour Professor Snape actually cared about his students. Greg knew it. He had seen him calming an upset, homesick Tracey Davis.

"Good," Snape slightly narrowed his eyes, for a moment pondering about Crabbe before he spoke to Goyle again. "Get better soon. I'm certain Mister Crabbe will help you not to fall behind for the next days."

"Yes, sir, I will." Vince hastened to agree. Greg grinned. Vince hated taking notes as he had troubles with writing.

"Good," Snape nodded. "Slytherins stick together." He slightly pronounced the word 'Slytherins' while watching Goyle. He understood. Snape turned to walk away but stopped again for a moment. "Some friendships are not meant to be, Mister Goyle. They're dangerous for both sides."

"I understand, Sir," Greg said with a sad voice. They wouldn't be friends. She wouldn't thank him for his heroism with a dazzling smile. "Sir," he stopped his Head of the House. "What happened to Mudblood?"

Snape frowned at the word. "Don't use that word. It's unbecoming."

Surprisingly Greg felt only relief. At least he could still call Weasel 'BT' in his mind. "What happened to Granger?"

"She's well." Snape glanced at Crabbe before he continued. "Apparently she was rescued by Potter and Weasley. Redhead is strutting around telling everybody how he knocked out the Troll with a levitated club." Greg wanted to interrupt but Snape continued with a glare. "It's only just and right that one obnoxious Gryffindor was rescued by two other oh-so-brave Gryffindors, don't you think so? A Slytherin would never act so reckless and stupid."

Crabbe looked from his Professor to his friend and back, trying to decipher was this was about.

"You're right, Sir." Greg agreed a bit deflated.

"When am I not?" Snape asked mockingly. "Mister Goyle. Mister Crabbe." With a last nod he left the room, left the boys alone with their own thoughts.

.

_**Two months later**_

.

His part in the adventure had never been mentioned. Everybody still believed that it had been Scarhead and BT who rescued Granger. Granger – he liked to call her that, both in his head and in the class room. Not that he did the latter very often. Following Professor Snape's advice he kept his distance. He never again asked for help, but also never insulted her. It still hurt that he couldn't defend her against Draco and Pansy. At least Vince followed his example and left Granger alone. His friend never asked why he behaved like he did. Vince simply trusted him.

Someone had apparently spoken with Granger too. She neither supported nor objected to BT's claims about his bravery. She never thanked Greg, at least not with words. A small smile and a single nod, more he never got. It wasn't even a dazzling smile, but far more than Pansy, Daphne and the other girls even showed. It was enough.

It hurt and felt good to watch her with her new friends. Somehow the trio had bonded over the Troll adventure and BT slowly seemed to actually believe his own lies. _She has friends now_, Greg thought a bid sad. _She doesn't need me_.

He had been at home over Christmas and only there he noticed that he had lost his comic in the lavatory. For the rest of the break he felt floored. Greg could hardly tell his parents about his loss. Even Josh would be hard pressed to find another copy of the comic. And it was far too late to have a look at the lavatory – not that he had the urge to visit a girls' lavatory in the slightest. Certainly Filch found it long ago and burned it. Or put it in that case of banned and confiscated items.

_I should have been more careful_, Greg mused, his mind not really on the lesson. History of Magic was boring as always. Professor Binns was even worse than before Christmas. Perhaps winter darkness was depressing him too. Could a ghost feel depression?

Something caught Greg's eye. His bag, standing beside his desk, seemed to move on its own. Its flap moved. With a deep frown he just wanted to act as he sniffed something. It was a scent well-known, reminding him of old parchment and book-leather. Granger? Something – no: someone – moved around the classroom invisibly. He had no idea how she was doing it, but he wouldn't betray her. Greg noticed Vince questioning look. He shrugged and his friend went back to sleeping through the rest of the lesson.

_What have you done, Granger? What have you done?_

.

It was hours later that he at last had a chance to have a look at his bag without prying eyes. With confusion he noticed a gift-wrapped package about the size of a book. He pulled it from the bag and it even felt like a book. The curtains drawn, his doing protected from view – not that Draco cared what he was doing, being far too occupied to tell Nott and Zabini what presents he got from his parents – he gently pulled the wrapping paper away, disclosing something he hadn't hoped to ever see again: it was his comic, completely without smirches and wrinkles. There was a little paper note added to the top of it.

_Found this. Thought you certainly want it back._

_Thank you. H.G. _

Carefully he put it aside, still not willing to fully believe he had it back. With wide eyes he took a look at the rest of the package. There were more comics. Hulk. Fantastic Four. Thor. All in all nearly a dozen comics. In his mind a real treasure. The best however was the last one. It was a small comic, only half the size of the others and only eight pages long. However those eight pages contained something very special. Its pictures and words contained…

_**The first adventure of Greg the Incredible.**_

.

_**A/N**_

_This was it. So far no permanent friendship and certainly no HG/GG romance but 'simply' an act of bravery caused by a Muggle comic. Hope you enjoyed it. _


	2. Chapter 2 I'm Black - Greg Black

_**A/N **_

_This is the second part of Greg the Incredible. It describes the events around the "Chamber of Secrets". So far I've not planned a third part, but if you have some ideas how to integrate Greg into PoA, feel invited to write me a PM._

_The story will mostly be canon, despite Greg having a bigger part in the events._

.

**I'm Black – Greg Black**

.

_His eyes wide open and his heart filled with utter terror, the gunslinger pointed his SMG towards his opponent and pulled the trigger. With motions that were equally fast and graceful the man clad in black leather dodged the asinine attack. Two of his comrades were already down, the chests ripped wide open by the vicious looking claws that Black Panther had attached to his hands._

_Yes, he had identified his opponent seconds after his surprising and shell-shocking arrival, an arrival that turned an easy bank-robbing into a real nightmare. It had sounded so easy: go to Elm Street, rob the small bank located there and burn down the whole place. The tiny "23th Street Welfare Bank" had been a thorn in the side of his boss for months, if not years. He decided to end the nuisance forever and sent Jonny and his buddies to take care of it. Yes, it should have been easy, with the cops paid to look the other way and only a couple of low-lifes crawling around, the clientele of the bank. _

_Jonny yanked his SMG around to target Black Panther anew, hoping beyond hopes that he would be able to pull the trigger before the claws put him down as well. He was too slow, far too slow. As the metal – indestructible blades crafted from the same Vibranium that had been used for the shield of Captain America – pierced his chest, Jonny had a last thought: would Mary-Ann miss him, at least for a while?_

_._

_Black Panther looked around. He couldn't stay for long as the NYPD wasn't keen of vigilantes in their quarter. He thought of himself as a freedom fighter, a defender of those unable to defend them, but in their eyes he was only another criminal with some weird looking knife. _

_The air turned chilly and a sudden wind announced the arrival of his mate. He looked up and watched Storm lower herself to the ground, her eyes ablaze with energy. A rare smile softened his expression. "Hello Storm."_

"_Hello T'Challa," she looked around, looking a tad sad. She knew that sometimes violence was the only way, but she was too much of a school teacher to accept it eagerly. "You were busy I see."_

"_Yes, the Mafia wanted to shut down the bank. Apparently the police was otherwise occupied," he sneered the last part. In the distance the first police sirens shrilled. "I have to go."_

"_You better do," Storm smiled, looking a tad concerned. "You're still going to Wakanda this weekend?"_

"_Yes," Black Panther nodded. "Father needs me."_

"_Call me when you're back," Storm begged, sounding surprisingly soft. "Or if you need any help."_

"_I will."_

.

_**Scene One: a couple of books**_

Greg loved the Black Panther since he first read about it. Unlike Hulk or the Thing, the Black Panther was very intelligent, well-trained and graceful. He wanted to be like that, especially the graceful part. Regretfully he was nothing of the sort. He had barely been able to pull some "A" grades at the first year exam – mostly due to the lack of help from his so-called friends and the necessity to avoid Granger. Even the Weasel had fared better after some serious head-whacking on her part; it was humiliating.

The Black Panther was – as the name hinted – a black man, fighting for his fellow countrymen and everybody in distress. He could do that, he was certain. He would be strong and brave like back then when he charged the troll. He would defend everybody too small, fragile and weak to fight for themselves – someone like the Hufflepuffs. Greg sighed. It was certainly an adverse fate to be born a Hufflepuff: neither as ambitious and clever as a Slytherin nor intelligent enough to be a Ravenclaw. Merlin, they hadn't even the stubborn and idiotic brashness of a Gryffindor. Like the lowlifes in the Black Panther comic, Hufflepuffs were only suitable for menial work, barely a step above house-elves. That was certainly the reason why even their Head of House was only allowed to work in the greenhouse, while Professor Snape had all that fascinating things in his potions lab to work on. Not that Greg was allowed to touch them. Only Malfoy was allowed to assist the Professor from time to time.

The Black Greg – he liked the name. Hadn't there been a famous pirate named Blackbeard? Perhaps he could grow a beard as well. Regretfully he had to wait a year or two to have this happen, but it was possible. And Black was the surname of one of the most important pureblood families. It would be like being a part of that fame. Not that there remained many Blacks today, especially no mentally sane ones.

"Goyle," Malfoy droned on. He was waiting at the door of Flourish and Blotts, waiting for Greg to open it. _As if he would be impaired or something_, Greg fumed silently. _Stupid lazybones_! Nonetheless he hurried to the door and opened it, allowing his "boss" to enter.

Lord Malfoy was already in there and quarrelling with someone. Redhead – Greg looked around. More redheads, redheads everywhere, he groaned. The Weasleys! Yes, over there, with a face as red as his hair, was the Weasel himself, with Pothead and Granger at his side. Greg glanced towards Draco. _Good, he's occupied_, Greg noticed. Draco was watching his father with an ugly sneer on his face – his usual expression around people he assumed below him, which was more or less everybody. Only Granger was looking his way right now and Greg dared to show her a small smile, mouthing "how are you?" She returned the smile and mouthed back "I'm fine."

Vince certainly noticed the exchange. Like Greg he noticed far more than Draco assumed. But Vince was a real mate, he wouldn't snitch on him. Forcing his face into his usual "I'm too dumb to understand what's going on" expression, Greg turned around and watched the show.

_Go, Lucy, go. I want to see blood – preferable yours._

.

_**Scene two: Travels with Trolls**_

.

Birthday?

"26th of January," Greg wrote. _Eight days later than Deadpool_.

Favourite colour?

"Dresses purple, but likes green more." _He would love the Hulk_, Greg grinned.

Favourite book?

"Gadding with Ghouls." As an afterthought he added: "I especially liked the part about the tea strainer." _Oh, he means his favourite_, Greg realized. He crossed out his words and wrote: "Magical Me." He didn't share Lockhardt's opinion about the book.

Greg nodded, content with his work so far. "Please stop now," he looked up and watched the new teacher collect the test papers. Both Draco and Granger watched him closely, Draco with a frown, Hermione with a tiny nod and equally tiny smile.

"Stupid test," Vince growled, an opinion certainly shared by most students of the class, but not by Greg.

He had actually read the books, some of them even before they turned up on his Hogwarts book list. Greg liked them. They were similar to the Karl May "Winnetou" books he got from his German uncle: written with simple words and grand gestures, proud moments and even the killings were without horror or too much bloodshed. _He should add more pictures_, Greg thought. _His books would be great as Comics_.

"Do you think he really did all of this?" Vince asked.

Greg only shrugged. _Of course not_, but he hadn't to express that opinion around the professor. The books were pure imagination. Even he knew that the Black Panther didn't really exist, and Lockhardt's heroic deeds were equally _realistic_. In the end, however, that didn't count for him. They were nicely written, entertaining and didn't use too many complicated words. He liked them. What was there more to know?

.

"Very good, Mister Goyle, very good. Continue this good work," Lockhardt showed his dazzling smile.

Greg accepted the paper, Draco's frown deepening as did Granger's smile. Otherwise only Vince seemed not to begrudge his mate the "EE". It was the best grade ever Greg got in DADA so far.

"Worthless shit," Draco groused. Greg knew that he would pay for that later, but right now he grinned about the red "P" on Draco's paper.

Only one thing dampened his spirits: the dreamy smile on Granger's face as she watched "Mister Prim and Proper." _Really? A crush? On him?_

The lesson continued and far too soon did the great hero in multi-coloured robes, winner of 22 dazzling smile contests, allow a bunch of Pixies to escape. Wildly amused he watched Lockhardt losing his wand to the little pests, or Draco screaming like a girl as they pulled his hair. The ugly trio started to catch them – mostly Granger with a freezing charm, no surprise there. The whole time Vince and Greg stayed silently at their seats, rolling with their eyes at the whole rigmarole, from time to time swatting a Pixie that got too close. Vince used his History of Magic book as a club – never opened so far and with a slight dent from his head resting on it – while Greg preferred "Magical Me", in his opinion the worst book of the series. They actually produced quite a toll among the little pests. In the end his beater-training was good for something. Greg grinned. Weren't Vince and he often called Draco's bookends? Today it really applied to them.

As Granger walked by, Greg detected a Pixie riding on her back, unnoticed by the girl. Without waiting or warning, he lashed out and perfectly hit the creature, sending it flying. Granger turned around and nodded thankfully, her smile vanishing as Malfoy droned:

"You missed the Mudblood, Greg. You should train on your aim."

Pansy whinnied like a horse, the sound ending in a very unladylike snort. Draco looked around, waiting for the other Slytherins to join in, while Vince watched Greg carefully and slightly shook his head in warning.

"Don't use that word," Greg demanded.

"Huh?"

"How you called her," Greg explained. "Professor Snape…"

"Snape isn't around," Draco sneered, looking around only to be certain.

"Professor Snape," Greg and Granger corrected in unison.

"Whatever," Draco shrugged, already bored by the whole incident.

Nobody noticed the thoughtful look Harry sent Greg's way.

.

_**Scene Three: The cat on the wall**_

.

Some ruckus in the corridors prompted Draco to leave the Great Hall and the Halloween celebration. There – arguing quite loudly – were the ugly trio and Argus Filch, as well as a number of teachers. Nobody liked the caretaker, but he respected Professor Snape and was mostly okay towards the Slytherins. Right now he was complaining about his poor cat and claimed that Pothead was somehow responsible for her condition. Vince and Greg cleared a way for their boss, allowing them to get a better look on the scene as well.

"The cat doesn't look well," Vince commented without much compassion. Some people were cat persons, other were dog persons. He was more of cow and pig person – cow and pig in any form of cooking.

Greg only shrugged. The cat was hated even among Slytherins. However, he was more interested in the letters on the wall: "Beware… Chamber of Secrets… Heir of Slytherin." Greg frowned. He never heard of that chamber before, or Slytherin's heir for that matter. A few of his housemates alleged to be some distant relatives of the founder, but none dared to call himself his heir.

"We've nothing to do with this," Pothead just explained. "We were at Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party."

Greg grimaced. He had wanted to go there as well. The Bloody Baron invited him, but Draco demanded that Greg and Vince accompanied him to the Halloween party. _I should have gone_, Greg mused, regretting the missed chance to speak with Granger. _Spilt milk_.

"You'll be the next to die, Mudblood," Draco sneered.

Greg paled. Despite all blood purity wittering, Draco couldn't really wish the death of a schoolmate, could he? Greg didn't notice that he struggled against Vince's grip, before Professor Snape interjected.

"Please refrain from using that word, Mister Malfoy," he drawled. "I expect you to control yourself better in the future." He glanced towards Greg and the boy nodded, showing that he understood.

He had to be more careful in the future – and Granger as well.

.

_**Scene Four: The Rogue Bludger**_

.

Whistling a little melody on his way – only a Muggleborn would recognize that it was the theme music of "Superman IV" and his father would beat him to a pulp should he learn about it – Greg skipped down the corridor towards the hospital. He was in a good mood.

The Slytherins had lost the game. Far more important: Draco had lost the game. To see that look on his boss' face certainly made Greg's day. And Vince' too – there had been this amused glint in his eyes.

Then there was Pothead's injury. He still didn't like him very much. In Greg's opinion he wasn't nearly the friend Granger deserved. Greg would be a better friend, given the chance. Lock-head vanishing Pothead's bones was only the icing on the cake.

And now he had some alone time. Professor Snape gave him a little job, allowing Greg to stay away from Draco "the world is sooo unfair" Malfoy and Pansy "Potty was cheating" Parkinson. In their current mood, the couple was even more disgusting than usual.

"What do you want?"

Barely into the hospital, Greg's walk was stopped by an irate Ron Weasley. He rolled his eyes and tried to ignore him while making his way around the stupid boy. The Weasel however stepped aside and again blocked his way. Greg frowned and wondered if Weasel really thought he could stop him. He had no doubt – with his regular training and mock battles with Vince – he could easily put down this annoying little bugger.

"Let him go, Ron," Granger called before it could escalate.

"I'm sure it was him who hit Harry with that Bludger," Weasel whined.

"You're an idiot," Hermione's comment did nothing to calm the boy but Greg didn't care. He liked the fact that a friend stood up for him for a change. "The Bludger was cursed. Neither Vince nor Greg even came near him."

"Then it was Malfoy who cursed the Bludger," Weasel insisted.

In Greg's mind this was even more ridiculous. Despite Malfoy's claims he was convinced that there was only one second-year around able to cast such a curse – and Granger had no reason to do so. Alright: she had a reason, but she was far too nice.

"Despite this certainly very entertaining conversation, I have a job to do," Greg drawled. While Harry and Ron were surprised to hear such a sentence from Greg, only Granger assumed – rightly – that he simply quoted something from a comic. Greg lifted the potion bottle. "This is from Professor Snape. It's for Pothead's arm." Granger shook her head slightly but didn't comment on the nick name. Instead she grabbed the potion, examined the designation in Snape's spidery script and put it in Potter's hand.

"You may go," Weasel sneered.

Greg frowned. "No, I want to stay." He gestured towards Potter. "I want to see him drink it."

"Why?" Weasel asked with no small amount of suspicion.

"Lay off, Ron," it was Pothead. "He wants to see my reaction to the taste."

"Yeah," Greg confirmed with a broad smile. "Skele-Gro tastes really awful." He knew that. He had personal experience with the taste. "Bottoms up, Potty!"

Greg didn't get disappointed by the following show.

.

_**Scene Five: A little Thievery**_

.

"I'm sorry that you got hurt, Greg," Granger mumbled, looking down and playing nervously with her bag. The incident with the exploding cauldron had only been a few hours ago, but most of the damage was already cured. Only Hermione knew that it had been Harry who caused it, allowing her to use the distraction for a little forage trip into Professor Snape's storage room.

"It's okay," Greg responded, sounding quite relaxed about it. The potion from the exploded cauldron hadn't hurt too much, and for a chance to speak with Granger he would endure some more. "I got chocolate from Vince and Millie," he pointed towards the table, missing Granger's pout at the mention of Millie's name. The girls didn't stand eye to eye with each other. It was a deep-seated animosity between the girls, an animosity which reason Greg didn't know. Perhaps the girls didn't either anymore.

Furious whispers distracted them and they glanced towards the bed of Justin Finch-Fletchley. He had been petrified by an unknown attacker and his Hufflepuff friends were now watching Hermione warily.

"They don't like me very much right now," Hermione sighed.

"Why?" Greg wondered, not that it really interested him. They were 'Puffs, thereby unimportant.

"Because I'm friends with Harry." She rolled her eyes. "They think he's Slytherin's heir."

"Huh?" That sounded incredible stupid.

"Because… you know… the snake thing."

"Ah," Greg nodded. Vince told him about that Parseltongue incident at the duelling club – and about Draco's reaction. He had been furious about the incident. In Draco's opinion only he deserved to have such a talent. Greg shrugged. "Only proves how stupid they are."

Hermione shot him a quizzical look.

"I mean," Greg explained. "Really, think about it: he has been your friend since…" He hesitated. Greg didn't like to think about the troll incident. Not because he wasn't proud about his deed or because he didn't like the idea of rescuing Granger. However, while they both had beaten the troll, only Potty was allowed to be her friend afterwards. "He's your friend. These attacks are against Muggleborn." Greg didn't even jolt using the term. "Everybody expects this 'heir' to hate Muggleborn. Potty wouldn't do that."

"When did you get so wise?" Hermione asked with a small smile.

Greg shrugged. "Me and Vince have more brains than others assume."

Hermione nodded and didn't correct his grammar. "I already guessed that. " She sighed. "I have to go. Get better, Greg."

Just as she started to walk away, Greg stopped her. "I saw you, you know."

Hermione turned around and frowned. "Saw me?"

"Entering Professor Snape's cabinet," Greg explained.

Hermione paled. "Does anybody know?" She asked, knowing that she would get quite some trouble for stealing components from the cabinet, especially such expensive and controlled ones.

"Nope," Greg soothed her. He hadn't even told Vince.

"Please…"

Greg zipped his mouth. "Not a word." He only wanted her to know that he knew.

"Thank you, Greg – again."

.

_**Scene Six – Polyjuice Potion**_

.

"I don't like this," Hermione whined. It was unlike her to whine, but she really didn't like to do this.

"But we need his hair," Ron demanded. "We have to do this." He glanced towards the tray with the cookies. Hermione felt the cogs turning in Ron's head, pondering if he could dare to eat some of them despite the sleep potion in the cakes.

"He's my friend," Hermione was unconvinced. "I hate to betray him."

Ron started to explode but Harry but a calming hand on his shoulder, while addressing Hermione. "We have to make sure if Malfoy is the heir." Hermione sighed. The boys had discussed this hair-brained idea for weeks now, convinced that Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin and his father had been the one to open the chamber the last time. _More his grandfather_, Hermione mused_. Malfoy's father wasn't old enough as it happened fifty years ago_. "And with him staying here this Christmas, this is our best opportunity. We need hair from Goyle and Crabbe to do this."

Why hadn't they made a move like her? She had even started a brawl with Bulstrode to get some of her hair, not an experience she would like to repeat. What she was willing to do for her friends. "He trusts me."

"Makes it only easier for you," Ron shrugged. _He really didn't get it_, Hermione realized. To her own humiliation she caved in the end.

.

Greg sent Hermione a thankful smile, only making her feel even worse. Lifting the tray from the sideboard, he offered Vince some of the cookies.

Friends shared everything – even cookies.

.

_**Scene Seven: Hospital Wing**_

.

_I deserve this_, Hermione mused a bit sad. _That's the punishment for betraying Greg_. Because she messed up the hair for her potion, she now had a fluffy tail, whiskers, slit eyes and cat ears. At least nobody would see her like this aside from Harry and Ron. Madam Pomfrey's scolding had been bad enough and Professor Snape certainly knew as well about the incident. Certainly he had been laughing his ass off. He had to brew some potions for her recovery. Now she had to stay here, for weeks perhaps. _I will miss classes_, Hermione pouted, not trusting her friends to keep her up.

"Coooool!"

Hermione whirled around. She stared at Greg with wide eyes, her face like a deer caught in headlight. She blushed deeply and lifted her blanket to cover her face.

"Don't! Please…"

She lowered the blanket again. "But I'm…

"Incredible cool," Greg nodded, completely missing the point. "You're Catgirl now," he said quite adoringly. "Do you have a tail as well?"

He asked with such amazement in his voice that Hermione actually nodded.

"That's so … wow." He grinned broadly.

This wasn't exactly the expected reaction but Hermione relaxed a bit. "It wasn't planned to be like this."

"I assumed as much," Greg continued to grin, his good mood making it only worse for Hermione.

"You aren't angry?" She asked haltingly. "I really didn't want to…"

"It's okay," He waved her off. "We got cookies," he showed her a toothy smile.

"It still wasn't right," Hermione mumbled.

Greg turned more serious for a moment. "No, it wasn't. But you're forgiven."

"Still friends?" Hermione asked, feeling that she didn't deserve his forgiveness this easily. Perhaps she would be less stubborn the next time Ron misbehaved. Perhaps.

"Only if I get another tray of cookies when the healer-dragon releases you," he grinned. "This time without sleeping potion."

"Deal!" Hermione's heart felt much lighter now.

.

"This is…" Hermione wondered what to say without hurting him. Greg had been nice enough to bring her his notes about the lessons. It didn't help however, that his writing was nearly as bad as Ron's, this meaning something, with Ron's scribble only readable after Hermione spell-checking every single word.

"Not so good?" Greg asked, flinching a little.

"Could be better," Hermione commented cautiously. She would have to ask Neville about it. Lavender and Parvati weren't her friends, and Padma didn't like her because Hermione got better grades despite not being a 'Claw. Usually she would ask Susan and Hannah, but currently the Hufflepuffs weren't on speaking terms with the Golden Trio.

"I'll try better next time," Greg promised.

Hermione smiled, while hoping that there wouldn't be a next time too soon.

.

_**Scene Eight – Valentine Day**_

.

"Leave him alone."

Hermione jumped at the low grumble that was Millicent Bulstrode's voice. She whirled around and asked, feeling a tad confused. "Leave alone … whom?"

"Greg," Millie snarled, pumping up her impressive chest. "He's mine."

"I have no idea what you're speaking about."

"I saw him writing a valentine card for you, don't you deny it."

Hermione gulped. The friendship between Greg and her was a secret and it had to stay like that. "Look…" She hesitated. Hermione had no idea how to handle this. It was obvious that Millie was jealous – without a reason. She looked the hulky girl in the eye and there she saw something. Yes, Millie was angry. She was jealous. Mostly, however, she was scared. _Why does she feel scared_? Hermione needed a moment to realize: despite her usual demeanour, Millie was self-conscious. She certainly had realized that most boys found her unappealing. She had a bad skin, was far too heavily built and not exactly graceful. Even her voice – far too deep for a woman – was unbecoming of a lady. Right now she tried to appear tough as nail but was nothing like that.

Hermione decided to be honest with her. She pulled the card from her bag – it was a nice one, with patience but not much dexterity crafted and the writing both readable and mostly correct – and offered it to Millie. The big girl hesitated for a moment before she nearly ripped it from her hand.

"I want it back after you read it," Hermione explained. "It's only to show you that we're friends, nothing more."

Hermione actually blushed, thinking about the one real Valentine Card she had prepared in advance – for Professor Lockhardt. In the end she didn't send it, mostly because she knew what Greg thought about the man and his "heroic" deeds. With Harry and Greg sharing an opinion, there had to be some truth about it.

Millie read the card carefully – two times actually. She felt quite relieved. The Mudb… the Muggleborn had been right: it was only a friendship card, nothing more. She tossed it back.

"Alright, for now," she growled. "But don't you forget: he's mine."

Hermione felt a little irate. "Then you should tell him, perhaps."

Millie frowned. Perhaps this bitch was right. Naturally she wouldn't tell her this. She growled for a last time and walked away.

Hermione sighed. This could have gone worse – much worse.

_I hate Valentine Day._

.

_**Scene Nine – Hospital Wing again**_

.

"You're unwelcome," Ron greeted Greg's arrival at the Hospital Wing. Steam seemed to come off his ears and even Pothead looked unhappy and suspicious.

"Fuck off," Greg growled, knowing that _she_ wouldn't like him cursing. However, he really wanted to see her. He had been itching to visit her since he heard about the petrification.

"What do you want?" Ron narrowed his eyes, squaring his shoulders like he was eager to start a fight.

Greg rolled his eyes. "I'm here to visit Granger, you dunderhead." He liked the word. Professor Snape used it regularly, mostly towards Gryffs.

"And why? To finish what you lot started?"

Greg narrowed his eyes. "Listen you stupid sack of shit," he whisper-growled. "Granger is my friend and I'll visit her. Perhaps you should have taken better care of her. Everybody knew about the danger, and you still allowed her to walk around the castle unprotected."

Ron growled back but Harry stopped him. "He's right, you know," he said, sounding defeated. He glanced towards Hermione: "she wouldn't want us to fight."

"I don't like it one bit," Ron fumed, but looking somewhat calmer now.

"Me neither," Harry shrugged. "But it is Hermione's decision whom to be friends with." He narrowed his eyes at Greg: "but listen – we'll watch you closely."

"I don't care," Greg shrugged. He wanted to ask something like 'should I be scared' but didn't want to raise the tension again. Pothead was right: Granger wouldn't want them to fight. Instead he walked to Hermione's bed, took a chair and sat down.

"Hi, there, Granger, here we are again," his voice was soft enough to convince at least Harry that he really cared about his friend.

.

_**Scene Ten – Aragog**_

.

Greg was on his way to the Hospital Wing again. He had been there every day for the last week, after some long discussion with Madam Pomfrey. He had begged and pleaded, even offered to undertake some duties like cleaning and fetching meals if she allowed him to stay. She had stared at him thoughtfully for a while before she allowed it – not without telling Professor Snape. The dour potion master hadn't uttered a single word about it, but Greg noticed his concerned glances.

_Bangers?_

Greg stopped and looked around. There was nothing special to see but there was still the taste of bangers in the air. There was no doubt about that. He loved bangers, had to fight Vince for every one of them. His preference was one of the few things he shared with the Weasel.

_Weasel._

He narrowed his eyes, as he noticed some sounds. Someone was near, walking slowly not to make any noise. Why didn't he see anybody? "Invisible Woman" had the ability to stay … yeah, invisible. Weren't there spells to do the same? No, Weasel would be too stupid for something like that, even with Pothead's help. And Granger, Greg sighed, Granger was still petrified. She didn't react to anything. But perhaps he has a cloak. Yeah, Draco once told him that he wanted such a cloak, but didn't get it for Christmas. He complained about his miserly father for weeks – spoilt git that he was.

Slowly he followed the smell of bangers and the few sounds he heard from time to time. _He's walking towards the door. He wants to leave Hogwarts_. For a moment Greg hesitated. They weren't allowed to leave the school – not that they were allowed to walk around after dark in the first place. Greg shrugged.

_This could get interesting._

.

He had a bad vibe about this.

Since they – he was now able to see the terrible duo as Potty had stored away his cloak – had left the school, it became quite clear where they intended to go: to the Forbidden Forest.

It wasn't forbidden for nothing, Greg knew. According to rumours there were Werewolves, Chimaeras, Centaurs and other wild things running around in the forest. Unicorns as well, Pansy told him so. Stupid bitch that she was, Pansy certainly knew her Unicorns. I would like to see one, he mused, deciding to still follow the boys. However he increased the distance to them, even risked losing them between the trees from time to time. Just as he thought about getting nearer again, something caught his eye – something metallic.

Greg stopped and carefully approached the weird object. It was some kind of Muggle contraption. _A car, that's a car_. Thinking about it, he remembered a story about Potty and Weasel using a flying car to get here. He hadn't believed it back then, but seeing the car between the trees…

_I could use a flying car_, Greg mused. _It could be my own Greg-Mobil_. Two years ago, in the summer before he first went to school, he had seen the Batman film in the USA. He had loved the gadgets back then. And Jack Nicholson as the Joker was incredible – despite being the villain of the film. It was so cool that cousin Josh was allowed all those things. For a while he imagined himself flying around in it. He loved to fly, but brooms weren't very comfortable. A car would be nicer. He looked into the car. It wasn't very big, far smaller than the Bat-Mobil and without those wings at the rear. But it would be big enough for Vince and him – and a couple buckets full of snacks on the backseat. And Coke – he came to love Coke. Draco would never be allowed into the car, but perhaps he could leash him to the rear bumper.

Without really noticing he opened the door and slipped in. It smelled like forest in there and he noticed the open windows. Quite some leaves and fir needles were in here as well, but he still liked it. His big hands caressed the steering wheel and he imagined how to hunt the bad boys with this car. Even going airborne wouldn't help them. He examined the controls and searched for hidden panels. Regretfully he found none. The car seemed to come without weapons and gimmicks, he ascertained, feeling somewhat disappointed.

Suddenly the car went alive. Greg's heart missed a beat or two, as the motor roared. Before he had a chance to escape this hellish trap, the car began to move around. It actually jumped forward and raced through the forest. Greg closed his eyes as it seemed ready to crash into the next tree. It swerved left and right for a while, before Greg dared to open his eyes again. He tried to control the car – he had seen enough about cars to know the reason of the steering wheel – but apparently it had a mind of its own. After a few minutes Greg leaned back and decided to enjoy the ride, even if he could'nt do a thing about it.

He didn't stay relaxed for long as the car passed another couple of trees before it raced onto a small clearing. There was quite some motion between the trees. Greg needed a while to recognize Potty and Weasel. They were dashing through the trees like some monster chasing them. It actually was happening, he realized, his eyes widening. Not only some single monster but many of them – and the car was charging right towards them. It swerved around and stopped near the boys, the horde of Acromantulas not too far behind. The boys screamed like little girls, a sound that actually relaxed Greg quite a bit. They raced towards the car, only to stop and stare dumb fondly at Greg. The boy grinned and pushed the other door open.

"Do you wanna ride?"

He always had wanted to say that since reading it somewhere.

As expected, Potty was the first to recover. He pushed Ron on the backseat and scrambled onto the passenger seat.

"Go-go-go!"

.

"We still aren't friends," Weasel dared to growl after they escaped the forest and left the hellish car. With a last joyful bleating it vanished between the trees. Potty at least had the decency to roll his eyes and shrug apologetically.

"I did this for Granger, not for you," Greg snarled back. "She likes you, despite me seeing no reason to do so. Keep your hair on! This won't happen again."

With that he walked away. He still had a visit to make – and to think about his own Greg-Mobil.

_Weapons – I need weapons for my car. Perhaps a laser_, Greg nodded. _Yes, a laser would be a good start. And an ejection seat like Josh told him about. I'm Black – Gregory Black. You will learn to fear me._

.

_**Scene Eleven – reading time**_

.

"These are my notes from Charms," Greg explained. He was speaking to Hermione like she was actually listening to him. Perhaps she was – Madam Pomfrey had been a bit vague about what the victims of the petrification noticed of their surroundings. The boy frowned. "I had a bit difficulty to understand the last lesson, but Abbot was nice enough to help me." He grinned in Hermione's direction. "She's alright – for a 'Puff; and not as dumb as I expected." He frowned thoughtfully. "Do you think there are more 'Puffs around worthy of notice?"

He rummaged through his things and put some more scrolls into the bag he had procured a few days ago. Argus Filch had found it and without much grumbling parted with it – for a bottle of mediocre whiskey Greg bought from one of his housemates. He had started to store the notes he gathered for Hermione in it. Carefully he smoothed the parchment and started to read:

"To prolong the duration of a charm, it is important to have a very clear picture of the intended result in your mind and keep it this way for the whole duration of the casting. Even a short wavering of this picture can seriously shorten the effect time wise…"

.

Greg was sitting in a quite comfy chair, babbling to Hermione about everything that came to his mind. He had been reading about Charms for more than an hour and intended to do the same with Transfiguration the next day. Since doing this for Hermione was absolutely necessary in his mind – he didn't trust the terrible duo to fulfil this duty and rightfully so – he had been more attentive in the lessons and put far more patience into his assignments as well, mostly doing them in the Hospital Wing and even asking Hermione for her opinion from time to time. One of those questions actually led to his first conversation with Hannah Abbot – and Susan Bones, who was more forgiving towards Hermione since the girl had been petrified.

"_Why are you doing this?"_

_Greg blinked. He pondered the question for a while. He wasn't certain about the answer. It simply had been something he wanted to do. "It felt the right thing to do," he answered after a while. "She'll feel awful about all the missed lessons."_

"_Yeah, I can see that happen," Hannah nodded. Greg's behaviour still surprised her. Still, it was very nice of him. "If you need any help…"_

"_There is actually something you could do."_

He had seen the girls quite often afterwards. Justin was the only one among the petrified quartet to get regular visitors. It surprised Greg a bit. Weren't Gryffindors famous for their friendships and goody-goody behaviour? Why was nobody visiting the Creevey boy? And wasn't that other Weasel the boyfriend of the 'Claw over there? She had been in here as long as Granger and Greg had only seen the Weasel once, back in the first week. That wasn't okay. They all needed someone to care for them. He at least wouldn't like to be here without any visitors.

Apparently it was time for the next good deed of the Black Greg.

.

"What in the name of Merlin's crumbled pants are you doing there?" Madam Pomfrey had left her office in a hurry when the bedlam started.

Greg only grinned in her direction and continued to push the bed – the one with the Creevey boy – nearer to Granger's. He had done the same with the one of the 'Puff boy and hoped to get some help with the last one. The 'Claw certainly wasn't built like Millie, but she was four years his senior and a bit heavier than the others. "I wanted to have the beds closer together," he said like it answered everything.

"I can see that," Madam Pomfrey lifted a single eyebrow. "And the reason behind this… activity?" She actually followed his lead as he pushed the last bed around, patiently waiting for his explanation. Madam Pomfrey was quite happy about the boy's development these past few weeks – as was Professor Snape, even if he never would admit it aloud. Greg Goyle had started to make friends among other houses and his grades had seen quite an improvement. He had "EE" mostly now, with a few classes where he was still struggling. His handwriting and grammar had dramatically improved, and she remembered fondly watching him, with the tip of his tongue showing between his lips or him reading Granger from a dictionary to get a spelling correct.

"I wanted to read something to them," he said a tad shyly.

"To all four of them?" She was a bit surprised. _Even to a Hufflepuff?_ She wondered silently, knowing the conceit most Slytherins felt towards the House of Badgers.

Greg shrugged. "They all need a friend."

"They certainly do," Madam Pomfrey agreed, leaving him alone again. She would keep an eye on this but was happy nonetheless, irrespective of how much her four patients actually noticed.

Greg pulled a book from his bag. "I'll try this weekend to find something about taking pictures, Creevey. I hope you'll like this, too." Carefully he opened the book, cleared his throat and started to read.

"Le Morte Darthur or the Death of King Arthur, written by Sir Thomas Malory," his voice sounded through the chamber. "There was a time centuries ago, when the people of Great Britain needed nothing more than a great hero. It was a time of war, oppression and hunger…"

The face with the green eyes had a thoughtful expression. The boy standing at the entrance – unnoticed so far by the chamber's occupants – watched the scene for a while. He felt bad for not visiting Hermione more often, but he knew her to be in good hands, despite Ron not sharing this opinion. After another minute of listening Greg – his reading voice was quite good, he admitted, able to put real emotions into the texts and only stumbling about a few of the longer words – he left without announcing his arrival, and closed the door silently. He would return another time.

.

"You know, Granger, you should really try to listen to Professor Snape more often," Greg nodded gravely. He ignored that the mentioned Professor was in the next room, speaking quietly with Madam Pomfrey about the progress with the mandrake. He equally ignored the sixteen-year-old Weasel was sitting only a couple steps away, speaking to his sleeping girlfriend and glancing towards Goyle from time to time. Percy Weasley still felt like blushing that he needed a twelve-year-old and Slytherin to add, to get his head out of his arse.

"_But she can't even hear me…" He had explained his non-visits to the slightly irritated Greg Goyle._

"_Are you certain?" Goyle snarled. "Are you really certain? She is your girlfriend, isn't she? Isn't she worth your time? You say she can't hear you, but what if she does? What if she's lying there, unable to move a single digit, unable to understand why nobody is visiting her? She's a 'Claw and a Prefect, certainly she's quite clever, perhaps nearly as clever as Granger. I imagine it would be awful for them lying there without any input. You could at least start telling her about your NEWT classes."_

_Percy had been a bit flabbergasted that Goyle even knew words like "input" and a tad annoyed that he thought Granger to be cleverer than his Penny, but he had listened to him nonetheless. _

"Here," he pulled a scroll from her bag. It was a former potion assignment of hers back from autumn. "Rehashing knowledge isn't worth more points," he read aloud. He put the paper down and shook his head. "I know he's a git to you Gryffdorks, but he's right about this. I would be happy to remember to write all of this," he waved the assignment, "but you're thought to be the clever one. Certainly you can use your own words. Hell, you certainly know hundreds of words I never heard. Use them, use your own ideas and surprise him. Think about his face…" Greg grinned, imagining the expression on Professor Snape's face when he would be forced to give Granger a rightly deserved "O". "And Granger," he continued, scolding her slightly, "less words please. I get a headache from even looking at this."

Severus Snape schooled an expressionless face before he turned around and mouthed a "not a single word" in Poppy Pomfrey's direction. Silently and without his usually robe-billowing he left the hospital wing. It would be interesting to watch if Granger listened to the boy. Slow as Goyle was, he had a wisdom hidden somewhere, understanding something about his potion professor that Granger hadn't seen in the past.

.

_**Scene Twelve – Chamber of Secrets**_

.

Greg banged loudly against the door of the Gryffindor dorms. After a while someone opened it. Luckily it was Katie Belle. She was quite nice to Greg, especially since she knew about the hours he spent reading to Granger and Creevey.

"I need to speak with Potty and Weasel. It's urgent."

Katie rolled her eyes but nodded. "I'll get them." She departed, leaving Greg behind, waiting for the terrible duo with a slip of paper in his hand. It was still piece of paper that had prompted him to come here, a piece of paper he found in Granger's hand only minutes ago. He wanted to kick himself a dozen times for not noticing it earlier. He really should have.

Greg sighed. At least he had now. They would find a solution to help Granger and even more to make certain that this petrification didn't happen again. _A Basilisk_, he thought. _It was a Basilisk_. He had the tome under his arm that Granger had used to find the solution of the puzzle. He had nicked it from the library. Madam Prince would have a heart attack knowing this, not that she ever would suspect him of all students. _That's the reason for the mirror_, he mused. It certainly saved her life. He had the mirror in his pocket, intending to use it.

Knowing the terrible duo they would find their way to the Basilisk – but not without him.

.

"You're certain this is the right place?" Greg wondered loudly as they entered the washroom that had been the lair of Moaning Myrtle since before his father walked the corridors of Hogwarts.

"You don't have to come with us," Ron snarled.

"Children," Professor Lock-head tried to appease them without much success. Greg still had no idea why Pothead demanded to get him involved. It was as useful as him bringing along some of his comics. Instinctively his hand went to his pocket where the newest Catwoman comic was hidden. He had written Josh to get him some because he wanted to show them to Granger.

Pothead didn't listen but went to a sink and hissed something. It was quite creepy, especially as the sink suddenly vanished, leaving behind a chute leading down into pure blackness.

"We should get some help," Lock-head whispered hoarsely, looking very pale now. Apparently he only now realized the seriousness of the situation. Greg rolled his eyes. He looked towards Weasel and nodded towards the Professor and the opening. Weasel understood and grinned.

"A very good idea, Professor," Pothead acknowledged, distracting the man while Ron and Greg moved into position. "You really should go first." Before Lock-head was able to deny the request, he felt himself gripped by the boys and pushed into the opening. With a girly scream he vanished.

"You're not so bad," Ron announced, "for a Snake."

.

"This has to stop here," Lock-head sneered. He pointed the wand – Weasel's wand – towards the boys. Greg sighed. How could Weasel be so stupid? This was the oldest movie trick, written in every second comic: the villain disarmed the hero and threatened him with his own weapon. Weasel should really read more comics.

"I'm sorry, boys, but I can't allow you to remember this," he announced, pointing the wand towards Greg. The Slytherin wondered if the spell would be successful. Draco had often claimed that his head was too empty to keep any thought. Greg tried to erect a telepathic barrier like Doctor Xavier would in such a case, uncertain if he would be successful. At the same time he glared at the git, attempting to mind force him to use the wand against himself.

"Obliviate!"

The spell went off, the wand shattered. Greg was too stunned by his success that he reacted to late. Luckily Pothead dragged him away as the ceiling caved in, separating them from Weasel and Lock-head.

_I've done it_, Greg cheered. _I have the power. I'm invincible. I'm The Black Greg_.

.

A few minutes later he wasn't so certain about that invincible part anymore.

He was running around in circles, with a big bad snake hot on his tails. This time it was him screaming like a little girl. Greg had no time to think about that, no time to remember to behave manly, and actually no time to think about anything. Running, a bit breathing, and more running – more wasn't happening. He only hoped that Pothead found a solution in between. Wasn't he the hero, the saviour of Wizardkind and all?

"You can't escape me," the boy scoffed at them who had called himself Tom Riddle – whatever that name meant. "My friend will kill you and I will be able to fully return. You're too late."

Greg glanced to the left while doing an ungraceful flic-flac to dodge an attack he had more felt than seen. Over there a girl was lying on the ground, unconscious and with her red hair betraying her family: a Weasel. Why hadn't her brothers noticed her changing behaviour? Were they this disloyal not only to friends and girlfriends, but even siblings? What a bunch of shit-heads. She was tiny, pale and looked like she lost some weight. Her hair hadn't been taken care of for weeks. They should have noticed, despite everything else that happened around. He would have noticed such a thing happening to Vince or Millie.

Millie, he grinned shortly, despite being seriously out of breath. She had been speaking more to him lately. He liked it. She shared most of his likes and dislikes. He even thought about telling her about his comics. Perhaps he would. She would be proud to see him fighting this monster – if he only could stop running around terrified by the sheer size of this ugly worm. Suddenly he changed direction and charged the other boy. "Tom" was concentrating on Pothead. Sometimes it was good to be only the unimportant sidekick. Greg tackled the boy. He felt wrong, made Greg feel ill somehow.

Somewhere behind him the Basilisk screeched and started to trash around in agony. Greg didn't dare to look behind, mirror or not. He didn't see Fawkes appear in the chamber, didn't notice him drop the Sorting Head into Pothead's hands or attack the Basilisk's eyes. He was too occupied to fight with the older boy. Greg was quite strong for his age, but this boy had the body of a sixteen-year old and an unnatural strength. Slowly he was overpowering him, sent him flying with a kick into the chest that left Greg panting for air.

"No, no, nooo," the boy suddenly screamed.

Greg whirled around. "Oh shit," he groaned, not really believing what he was seeing. Pothead had a bloody sword in his head, a sword he had used to make a hole into the Basilisk's head. The worm was trashing wildly, the motions getting slower and slower by the second. However, Pothead apparently had been injured as well. He suddenly crumpled to the ground. Without really noticing, Greg rushed over and bent down. There was blood all over Pothead and something was sticking in his arm. Greg pulled it out, not thinking about the danger. It was a tooth, a Basilisk tooth, dripping with poison. Some of it hit his shoe and hissed.

"You killed him," Tom screamed. "You killed my pet, but you'll die as well." He cackled. "And it's still too late. Nobody can stop me now."

Pothead sent some hexes his way. Tom simply batted them away or even took them to the chest without flinching. He even smiled. Greg didn't doubt that his own spells would be equally useless.

"The diary," Pothead hissed under his breath, obviously in deep pain, "the tooth."

Greg frowned. Pothead continued to distract "Tom" and after a while Greg understood. Somehow the diary was linked to the man. He thought about Granger, about Creevey and Clearwater, he even thought a bit about Justin, the poor, useless Hufflepuff. None of them deserved what happened to them. With a battle cry he charged, this time towards the diary, and raised the Basilisk's tooth.

"Nooo!"

_Did Tom know no other word?_ Greg thought. _Useless, he wouldn't make a good villain. He is truly pathetic. _

With that thought he speared the diary with the tooth in his hand.

_I'm Black, Greg Black. You will learn to fear me._

.

_**Scene 13 – Repercussions and Friendships**_

.

"The potion is ready?" Greg asked a little nervous.

Professor Snape stared at him through his deep, black eyes with no expression visible on his face. After a while, feeling a tad impressed that his stare wasn't enough to intimidate the boy, he slowly nodded and offered him the bottle.

"But…" The Weasel started but Pothead stopped him, gripping his arm and shaking his head.

Greg accepted the bottle with a curt nod and walked to Granger's bed. For a second he hesitated, looking down at the bag with the scrolls and the book on the sideboard. It had a bookmark inside, one he created himself. _Cat-Granger_, he would love to see her face noticing it for the first time. He would miss the hours reading to her – and the others. He had learned quite something in these weeks. And he had built some new… he wouldn't call them friendships, but acquaintances at least. Susan Bones. Hannah Abbot. The haughty Weasel. A few of the younger Gryffs. He would miss that. Next year they would be back to their usual self, and him forgotten. Greg sighed. There was no rest for the wicked hero.

It was time to defend the helpless. It was time to bring Granger back.

.

The door opened with a loud clank and a whole cavalcade of Slytherins stormed into the hospital wing. Luckily for them, Madam Pomfrey wasn't around else they would have been out of the door faster than light. Greg had been dreaming about the ride with the Phoenix, thinking about how helpful such a bird would be in his heroics. Now he turned around just in time to see the look of disappointment on Millie's face as she noticed him sitting at Granger's bed. He scowled for a moment. _Why_…

Then he remembered what Vince had told him some weeks ago. "She likes you, dunderhead."

Greg had laughed back then. He would have noticed such a thing, wouldn't he? He was the forever-alone-hero, wasn't he? Now, he wasn't so certain anymore.

"That's enough, Goyle," Draco drawled who was leading the little invasion. Vince was at his side, shrugging at Draco's statement. He looked a tad sorry about the matter. Pansy was there as well, sneering in Granger's direction. Granger had only been freed from the petrification two hours ago and was still recovering, with Weasel and Pothead prattling around the whole time. She had made Greg's day with a dazzling smile and a heartfelt "thank you". It had been too nice to last.

"I allowed this to happen so far," Draco continued. "These visits and all," he said, ignoring that Professor Snape had covered them with Greg earning him "_detentions in the hospital wing to learn some respect for the health risks of dumbly brewing"_. "But this," he gestured towards the Golden Trio and sneered. "Is enough. Get out."

Greg frowned and hesitated, until he felt a small hand patting his meaty one. "You should go," Granger said. "But thank you," she whispered."

For the first time even Weasel had no problem with the gesture of friendship, and Pothead gave a curt nod. Greg turned around and saw the look of disgust on Draco's face. Suddenly he stopped with a deep frown on his face, realizing something.

"Goyle, come," Draco commanded.

"You knew it," Greg said hoarsely.

"What?" Draco asked, his face a grimace of confusion and irritation.

"When you told Granger that she would be the next victim," Greg said, his voice getting louder and angrier. "You knew that your father was part of that."

Draco paled, looking nervous. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The book," Greg growled. "The book that caused all this trouble – Weaslette had it because of your father. Because of your father, Granger nearly died."

"Who cares?" Draco responded with a shrug, uncaring that he confirmed Greg's assumption. "She's only a filthy Mudbl…"

Draco had barely time to open his eyes wide, before the meaty hand crashed into his face, breaking off a tooth and smashing him to the ground. Greg moved to advance on him, to finish the job as Black Panther would have done, but only now did Vince step in. "That's enough, Mate," he said calmly.

"Drakie," Pansy whined and hurried at his side. "What has he done to you?" She glared at Greg. "How could you?"

Greg shrugged, looking unfazed, despite him knowing that this would have serious repercussions at home. "It's my job to defend the weak," he said, fully realizing that Pansy had no idea what he was speaking about, "even Gryffs and Puffs."

Weasel frowned. He didn't like to be compared to Hufflepuffs. But Greg punching Draco was sight he wanted to remember.

"But not the Mud…"

"Don't," Greg growled. "I really don't want to hurt a girl, but simply don't."

Pansy looked disgusted, Millie very sad. Vince had been right. Pansy huffed and ordered Vince to take Draco. Greg nodded in his direction. The mates put their fists against each other in a manly way, before Vince pulled Draco into his arms, bridal-style, like he was a hurt toddler. Pansy stayed at his side, gushing over "poor Drakie", who moaned in pain. Greg sighed. He knew that Draco would milk the "serious injury" for weeks. He always did.

"Millie, I'm waiting." Pansy suddenly yelled. Millie was still there, looking sad. In the past she had been treated by Pansy no better than Vince and Greg by Draco. She had been used to intimidate the other girls and carry around Pansy's bag. Until today Greg had been silent about it, but not anymore.

"Millie, hurry up!"

Millie sighed and complied, but stopped when Greg scolded Pansy. "You have no right to order around my girlfriend."

Pansy's eyes widened. Millie made the impression of a gaping fish with red ear tips. Vince gave a curt nod. Draco groaned. Only Granger smiled. In her eyes Greg and Millie were a cute couple.

"Your … your … what?"

"My girlfriend," Greg said, mostly ignoring her and looking at Millie. "Millie is my girlfriend, aren't you?" He asked pleadingly.

"I am," she whispered with a voice surprisingly soft but still rumbling. Millie squared her shoulders. "And I'm staying with my boyfriends and his," she frowned, looking at the Golden Trio a little uncertain, "whatever they are."

"My wards," Greg explained.

Millie's face brightened. She still didn't like the idea of the Gryffs being Greg's friends. "His wards," she nodded. "Poor little lions need a big bad protector," she said with a grin.

Weasel huffed. Pothead lifted an eyebrow. Granger made an impression of poor-damsel-in-distress.

"Oh, argh," Pansy stamped her foot and left. Vince followed her after a thumbs-up sign, carrying a still moaning Draco.

The world would never be the same in the Slytherin dorms.

.

_**Scene 14 – You can never have enough socks**_

.

Another door, another clank, and another Malfoy storming into a room – only this time it was the father. And Merlin, did he look pissed. The Golden Trio plus Greg had been sitting in the headmaster's office, explaining in detail what had happened in the chamber of secrets. Headmaster Dumbledore, freshly returned from his short exile, had been proud of them and even told so. Greg's part had been a surprise to him, but there was no doubt that the young man was really changing for the better.

"Lord Malfoy," he now greeted the fuming man who sneered in Pothead's direction. Greg was quite happy to be ignored, despite the hate burning in his stomach. He couldn't forgive Malfoy what he had done. "What can I do for you?"

"So, you're back, Headmaster," Malfoy snarled.

"Yes," Headmaster Dumbledore nodded. "The Board of Governors had a second meeting and revoked my retirement. Interestingly a few of them had the impression that you used bribery and blackmail to convince them the first time. Funny thought, isn't it?" He asked, his eyes twinkling over his half-moon spectacles. Malfoy huffed only.

"That you even dare to show your face around here," Pothead growled. Unlike Greg he was a Gryff, unconcerned of the repercussions. Not that he had a father waiting for him at home, eager to beat the bloody shit out of his son – like Greg had. Not that Greg really cared. Broken bones could be healed, bruises vanished after a time – he was the Black Greg, he would prevail. "You have been there in the bookshop. You put that book in Ginny Weasley's bag. It was your fault that this happened," Pothead continued.

"I don't have to listen to this," Malfoy sneered. With a haughty last look he left, his robes billowing.

"Snape is better at that billowing thing," Weasel commented.

"Professor Snape," Granger corrected, while Pothead and Greg were listening to the screams of pain from the stairs – Dobby's screams. Pothead had told Greg about Dobby's part in the year's events. He had known the tiny house-elf before. While he didn't share Granger's opinions about other races, he liked house-elves. They had cookies. He had pitied Dobby more than once while visiting Malfoy Manor. He was treated worse by the father than he by the son.

Suddenly he pushed off a shoe, took off a single sock and put it into the diary that was lying on the table. He shoved it into Pothead's hands who had been watching slightly confused. "Give it to Lord Malfoy." The Lord part was automatic after a decade of using the honorary.

"Why…"

"Trust me. Do it," Greg urged.

Pothead hesitated for a second before he nodded and accepted the book, rushing after Malfoy. He didn't know that he would free a house-elf within the next minutes. For a change, Granger looked confused, while Weasel seemed to understand what was happening.

"You can never have enough socks," Greg grinned.

"I agree, Mister Goyle," the Headmaster twinkled. He pulled a pair of socks from a drawer of his desk. What sane man… Greg stopped him trail of thoughts. Sane – but he was speaking about the headmaster. The Headmaster twirled his wand over the socks and offered them to Goyle. Greg's face split into a huge grin as he accepted and showed them to Weasel and Granger. Weasel frowned in confusion. Granger understood – no surprise. Greg was thankful.

"I had no idea you knew the Fantastic Four, Headmaster," Greg wondered, loving his new socks. He would have to hide them from his father.

"Even I leave the castle now and then," Headmaster Dumbledore responded. "It is important to have your own heroes. And to find your own path."

There was some yelling from the corridor. Granger obviously felt the urge to have a look, but Headmaster Dumbledore stayed put and calmly sipped his tea. To distract them, Weasel used the moment to pull something from his blotted robe. It was a small "present", wrapped into a not completely clean napkin.

"Here," he pushed it into Greg's hands. "Your trophy."

Even Headmaster Dumbledore lent forward to have a look as Greg unwrapped his present. It was a – bloody – tooth. _Draco's tooth_. "I wanted to keep it first, but Harry said you deserved it more."

Granger looked a tad disgusted. "Boys," she sighed.

To Greg's surprise Dumbledore said nothing. He wasn't certain but there could even have been a hint of a smile for a moment. Greg rewrapped it and offered it Weasel again. "For your sister, she deserves it more." He had the socks. He didn't need the tooth. It would be same kind of "Wergild" for the girl.

Granger shuddered slightly, but Weasel grinned. "You're not too bad for a snake."

.

_**Scene 15 – Departure**_

.

Greg was waiting for Millie on the platform. Draco had passed him a few minutes ago, with a sneer on his face and a gushing Pansy in tow. Vince had shortly stopped to clap him on the shoulder before following his "master". Greg was happy to still have his mate.

A shadow at his side announced the arrival of Professor Snape. He stood there, silent for a while, unperturbed by the chaos around. "Your part in the events within the chamber isn't widely known, Mister Goyle," he said, breaking the silence. "Mister Malfoy only knows about your visits to the hospital. And it's better to stay this way."

Greg looked up and nodded. "I understand, Sir."

"Do you?" Professor Snape glared. "I hadn't expected such rash behaviour from you."

"I had to do it. It felt right. Are you… are you disappointed, Sir?"

Professor Snape looked straight ahead like he wasn't really talking to Greg. Perhaps he wasn't but thinking about something different – or someone. "I am not."

Greg sighed. He respected his House Head very much. He was no Mister Fantastic but not so far behind. Perhaps he was as close to Batman as any living human could be.

Professor Snape pushed a little book into his hands. "I expect you to read this over summer. It's without pictures," he added with a glare. "And you'll do the exercises every night. Don't show this to your father."

Greg stared at the cover: Occlumency, the Defending of the Mind – a primer.

"And Mister Goyle," Professor Snape said, already walking away, while Greg noticed Millie hurrying towards him. "Starting September you have detention every Tuesday afternoon – for your lessons. Better be prepared."

"I will, Sir."

Greg could do this. He was a hero. He had a secret identity to protect. Greg grinned. Last year he got a comic from Granger about the adventures of the Invincible Greg. Perhaps he would add volume two: The Adventures of the Black Greg.

_Let's see what the next year brings._

.

_**A/N**_

_You see: no GG/HG pairing, only friendship. Like with canon Ron, I simply see no stable ground for more than a platonic friendship, even with a more mature and driven Greg. And I like the idea of a self-conscious and jealous Millie. _


	3. Chapter 3 Claws of Destiny - Part One

_**A/N**_

_**Here is part three of my little Greg series, describing his adventures in PoA.**_

_**Important note: **__I'll ignore the whole time-turner stupidity. While Dumbles may be insane enough to give a time-turner to a teenager, McGonagall would never be that irresponsible. So in this story, Hermione simply has more hours per week than other students (and I expect there to be many others as well with three or four electives instead of only the necessary two. So, please repeat with me:__** NO TIME-TURNER IN THIS STORY.**_

_Thank you, __**pgeraci**__, for your study group idea._

_I admit that I'm not too happy with this part. It got too long and too serious in the end. I don't intend to continue this story. Hope you still like it._

**.**

_**The story got far longer than intended. For better reading, I split it into 3 pages. The whole 32k words story is already finished and I'll publish the pages within a few days.**_

**.**

**Greg and the Claws of Destiny**

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_Wolverine hobbled along the street. The broken arrow in his shoulder hurt but he was unable to reach it and pull it out. He felt the poison on its tip burning in his body. His other wounds were healing already, but far slower than usual. Something had been in the gas Venom used against him. It was a bad day when The Mandarin and Venom worked side by side, put their mad minds together to draw up some criminal master plan – a plan that was still mostly unknown to him. _

_Where is he? Wolverine wondered and looked around, searching for his ally. They had to vanish and fast. The cops didn't like 'Him' either, perhaps even less than Wolverine. A weak motion drew his eyes to a heap of broken glass and steel. Something had crashed to the ground over there – something spidery. There were police horns bleating in the distance, and Logan hurried to his friend's side. Peter called him a couple of days ago and since then they had been trying to catch Venom. So far they had only been able to knock out some of his henchmen, with Spiderman lamenting every time about Wolverine using lethal force against the thugs. What did he expect? He had claws and would use them. He was no ballet-dancer patting his enemies with a lace fan. He was a warrior._

_Wolverine stared down at the broken body. Spiderman didn't look all too well. He pulled him up and put him over his healthy shoulder, grunting from the pain. _

_Perhaps this had one good side: perhaps Peter would now be more lenient towards violence in the future._

_Logan sneered. There was no such thing like 'exaggerated violence'. In a fight violence was always adequate. You point a gun in my direction, and I'll cut you in half. Peter would learn it someday as well._

.

_**Scene One – Tell me**_

Greg stopped his reading for a moment. He loved crossovers, he really did. It allowed heroes to work together that normally had no point of contact. Wolverine was one of his most beloved heroes, even more than Black Panther. He was a kind of modern samurai. Only, Greg would handle the whole Jean Grey matter differently. This blasted Cyclops got the girl in the movie. He wouldn't allow that to happen. The hero gets the girl, not the prat. That would be like Malfoy getting Millie. Greg sneered. As if Millie would allow that to happen. She would break the blond git in halves without breaking a sweat.

_Millie_. He missed her. She was a great girl, really. He hadn't been allowed to meet her since the school year ended. He hadn't been allowed to meet anybody since then. There had only been grounding and beating – interrupted by all-too short phases of healing.

The beating hadn't been unexpected. It happened before. It would happen again in the future. It was how some things were handled in the house of the Goyle family. Unexpected had only been the fact that his father stopped the beating every time before Greg became a bloody pulp. It hurt like hell, yes, but so far he hadn't suffered any long-lasting damage. Greg assumed that his mother had something to do with that fact.

Abigail Goyle was a taciturn woman. In public she stayed mostly silent and always a step to the left and half a step behind her husband. She didn't like Muggles or Muggleborn, but it was more a "they're unsavoury" dislike, not the violent one of the Malfoys or the "they're cockroaches" of the Parkinsons. She believed in hard work and silent endurance. Abigail Goyle, unlike her "friend" Narcissa Malfoy, didn't spoil her son and Greg assumed that she didn't even understand the concept of pampering. However, she got him his potions – _self-brewed naturally, those modern apothecaries can't be trusted_ – and she healed his wounds. He got abundant but healthy meals – eaten at the small table in his room as you had to be deathly ill to be allowed to eat in bed. Greg absolutely adored his mother and hoped he would get a wife like her one day. Not that he had any doubts about marriage being one of the matters Abigail Goyle would handle herself instead of leaving it to the whims of his father.

Greg startled as he heard steps nearing the door. It wasn't time for lunch. Hastily he stored the comic away. He suspected that his mother knew about them. So far she hadn't addressed the matter, but like Greg she noticed far more than others suspected. While Greg looked like a younger image of his father, he was far more his mother's son – and proud of it.

The door opened and his mother stepped in. To Greg's surprise she wasn't alone. Vince was there and his mother as well. Hastily he sat up, pushed his duvet away and left his bed. He was wearing a sensible pyjama – not that silly silk stuff Malfoy preferred but long-lasting linen – and an old-fashioned dressing gown. Every motion hurt, but the look of his mother told Greg that she had expected such a reaction from him – and was proud that he willingly obeyed her wishes. _If you're able to sit and read_, he heard her voice in his mind, _you're able to greet your guests in an acceptable manner as well_.

He stopped three steps in front of Mrs Crabbe and bowed politely. "I wish you a pleasant day, Mrs Crabbe. Hello Vince." Greg's eyes rested on his mate for a moment, silently asking for the reason behind his mother's presence. Vince only shrugged, however. 'Don't know, don't care, as long as I can meet you', his eyes answered. Greg's tiny grin agreed. Greg and Vince were good at that silent talk. For years, they had been able to hold long conversations behind Malfoy's back.

"And a pleasant day to you as well, Greg," Mrs Crabbe rumbled in return, her look stony. Mrs Crabbe didn't smile – ever. She rarely ever expressed any emotions. When she got angry however, everybody better run for the hills. Grace Crabbe – Greg rarely met someone less appropriate to be named Grace. He still liked her, more or less. She treated her son well and there were always cookies at her home in every room, ready for the grabbing. Her girth spoke loudly of her life-long sugar cravings. "I heard you did well in school."

Greg nodded, unable to resist feeling happy under his mother's proud look. "He got EE in History, Astronomy and Charms," Abigail announced. "Only Transfiguration could have been better."

"I'll try harder next year, mother."

"See that you do." It was still obvious that she was far more content with his school achievements than last summer. Greg suspected that his grades had something to do with his mother protecting him. Without her protection – he had no doubt – he would have spent some time in St. Mungo's – after some 'unhappy accident thanks to his clumsiness'.

.

This part of the conversation finished, Abigail turned around, walked towards the windows – Greg's room had two big windows allowing a nice view onto the garden – and summoned a table and six chairs, simple and sturdy ones like she preferred them, not some cosy posh. _Six?_ Greg wondered, but stayed silent. They waited for a few minutes more, before they heard heavy steps announcing the last pair of guests. _Millie_, Greg recognized that special kind of noise. It wasn't too difficult, actually. Millie's left leg was an inch shorter than her right, prompting her to wear some special shoes. As far as he knew, it was the result of some severe leg injury before Millie even started Hogwarts. The result was a unique kind of walking. If Millie was here, the last guest could only be…

"Mrs Bulstrode," Greg bowed again. While Millie had inherited her mother's heavy bone frame, Greg was quite happy she took more after her father face-wise. Olivia Bulstrode had a very manly face, complete with a hint of woman's beard and a single black wart. She was the most heavily boned of the trio of women now dominating the room. Grace Crabbe was the fattest, to be impolite but honest, and Abigail Goyle was the most muscular, the reason being her regular use of Greg's gym. It was their little mother-son secret and never mentioned around their father. It was only another reason he adored his mum, the fact certainly helping that she could knock out Goyle senior with a single haymaker if she ever felt the urge – which actually had happened in the past.

A second later he had a Millie-shaped missile clinging to his chest. Greg winced under the strength of her hug, but he liked it nonetheless. His mother showed an indulgent smile as did Mrs Crabbe, while Mrs Bulstrode at least didn't comment. It was her kind of showing approval, as Greg had learned over the last years. Millie noticed Greg's reaction and pulled back. She didn't apologize but turned around and glared at his mother. Greg winced.

"He's hurt," Millie actually growled, sending a shiver down Greg's spine. She was an angry mother-bear right now, intimidating and quite dangerous. "He doesn't deserve this after everything that happened last year," she continued, her stance telling his mother off for not protecting her son against his father. To Greg's surprise his mother actually smiled approvingly to Millie's inappropriate behaviour. He hadn't expected that reaction.

"We gathered today," his mother declared without directly answering to Millie, "Because we wanted to hear more about the events of last school year. Please have a seat." It was clearly an order and the teenagers hastily obeyed.

"A few days ago," Abigail Goyle started, still standing and looking accusingly now, "Grace told me about a few things that apparently happened at Hogwarts last year. Things, I have to add, that I expected to hear from my son first."

Greg gulped. His mother was angry and, far worse, disappointed. "I apologize for disappointing you, mother."

Shoulders square and look straight in the eye; that was always better than some mumbled explanation. Abigail nodded curtly. It was forgiven for now, but not forgotten. "Explain your reasoning," she demanded.

"Professor Snape told me to stay silent about my part in the events, especially towards father." If his mother addressed the matter in the presence of her friends, she obviously trusted them enough. And Greg had no doubt that she wouldn't hesitate to obliviate them should the need arise. Abigail Goyle was fiercely protective of her own, perhaps the reason why she overlooked Millie's behaviour.

Abigail narrowed her eyes and scrutinized her son. She respected Severus Snape. He belonged to the incredible small number of men she respected, a list that certainly didn't encompass Headmaster Dumbledore – or Lucius Malfoy for that matter. "I understand," she dropped the matter to Greg's immense relief. He had started to learn Occlumency but wouldn't have been able to withstand a serious interrogation of his impressive mother. "Then tell me what you can about the events."

And so he did.

.

A bit later, Greg was sitting in his bed again. Mrs Bulstrode and Mrs Crabbe had left after the conversation, while Millie and Vince had been allowed to stay for the rest of the day. They were sitting beside his bed, talking about the decision their mothers made.

_The trio of women hadn't been happy to hear about the part Lucius Malfoy played in the events, or about the dangers their children had been put in. Even without telling his mother about his part in the fight against the Basilisk, he was quite certain that she suspected something. _

"_It wasn't so bad," Grace Crabbe tried to defend Malfoy. "He only wanted to get rid of the Mudbloods." Mrs Crabbe belonged to Mrs Parkinson's 'Muggles-are-cockroaches-party'. Greg's mother grimaced. Like Professor Snape she didn't like the term. Actually she didn't like to speak about Muggleborns altogether. _

"_And how do you expect such a beast to differentiate between them and our children?" Olivia Bulstrode barked. "That creature endangered our dearies as well."_

_Abigail nodded. "If he absolutely wants to get rid of the Headmaster – a basically laudable endeavour – he has to find another way. A Slytherin is cunning in his planning. He is neither brutal nor careless."_

_Mrs Crabbe and Mrs Bulstrode heartily agreed in the end. Lucius Malfoy was a disgrace to the House of Slytherin. _

"I can't believe that mother allowed me to stay your friend," Vince grinned, stopping his cookie munching for a moment, "Or Millie's mother approving about her being your girlfriend." Millie blushed cutely, an impressive sight with such a big girl. Greg nodded and pressed her hand. He had been happy about that part as well. Going against Mrs Bulstrode and his mother wouldn't have been easy.

"How do you think our fathers will react?" Vince wondered. It was no secret that at least Goyle and Crabbe senior behaved like loyal and eager henchmen of Lucius Malfoy most of the time – a fact not completely approved by their wives.

Greg shrugged. "Don't know, don't care."

"_We'll take care of your fathers," the ladies had simply declared. _Nobody doubted that they were able to do exactly that.

He grinned. "I only hope they don't forget the silencing spells." His friends nodded. Those conversations could turn ugly. And the imagination of the make-up sex afterwards made Vince nearly lose his appetite – but only nearly.

.

_**Scene Two – Buy me**_

.

Like last year, Greg Goyle was wandering the streets of Diagon Alley with Vince Crabbe for company, the bag with his school things getting heavier after every shop visited. Unlike last year, there was no Draco Malfoy around this time. The blond git still wasn't on speaking terms with Greg – not that Greg actually cared. He had his mate Vince at his side and his mother at his back; nothing more counted.

"_Wait until I'll tell my father."_ Greg snickered as he remembered the often used phrase. He would prefer his mother every day. And then there was Millie. She was at Madam Malkin's right now, getting a couple of new robes, and would join Vince and Greg somewhat later.

"Look," Vince nudge his friend and nodded towards Eeylops Owl Emproium. "Potty and Weasel." The duo just entered the shop. _She_ wouldn't be far behind. Without thinking, Greg decided to follow them into the shop, with a bored Vince strolling behind.

_There she was_. Greg's face split into a smile. Hermione was staring at a couple of cats, like trying to choose the right pet.

"You should buy the orange one," he advised her.

"Oh, hi Greg," she greeted him with a dazzling smile. "Do you think so?" She stared at the orange-furred tomcat, biting her lower lip in a cute way.

"No way," Ron grumbled, rudely pushing between Hermione and Greg. "He's ugly."

Greg frowned. He had been called ugly himself more than once. Millie as well, and he knew how much it still hurt her. Actually, he had chosen the orange beast exactly because it wasn't your run-o-the-mill beauty. Nobody would buy him because he was "so cute". And the tomcat had watched Hermione with intensity, like he knew that she would be the right mistress for him. Certainly a clever guess with Hermione being the caring heart she was. "He's not ugly," Greg growled. "He has character."

"Then you should buy him yourself, Goyle," Ron sneered. "You certainly could use some character." _So it was back to Goyle_, Greg sighed. Apparently Weasel had used the summer break to return to his old behaviour and inbred Snake-hate. Potter at least had an apologizing expression on his face and Hermione even looked angry.

"I can't," Greg responded calmly.

"Too poor?" Ron bitched. Obviously the poor-family boy liked the idea of having something others didn't – as if a rat was something special_. A rat_ – Greg grinned inwardly. _Weasel had a rat_. A cat would be perfect. He glanced towards the orange fur ball like asking: _do you hunt rats_? The tomcat bopped his head.

Hiding his grin, Greg walked away, ignoring how Hermione scolded the Weasel for his nastiness. He approached the salesman. "I want to buy the orange tomcat, complete with fur caring kit, carrier and some treats." The tomcat was cheaper than expected. Apparently most customers shared Weasel's opinion about his appearance.

"He's part Kneazle, very clever," the salesman explained. Greg liked this even more by the minute. He returned to the golden trio, where Hermione was still spitting fire.

"My father would never allow me to have a cat," he explained calmly and a little sad. "Only an owl would be acceptable. It's all about usefulness, not friendship and comfort." He shoved the carrier with the tomcat into her hands. "He's yours now, early birthday present and all," he stopped her objection. "On one condition: don't call him Tiger or Leo or something similarly unimaginative."

"Thank you," Hermione hugged him. Luckily Millie wasn't there. While the big girl had accepted his friendship with Granger, they still weren't all too comfortable around each other. She had a closer look at her new pet and decided: "I'll call him Crookshanks."

Greg shared a look with Vince. His friend shrugged. He was a little disappointed, having hoped to watch an exciting brawl with Greg using the redhead to mop the floor. "Crookshanks would be alright."

.

_**Scene Three – Calm me**_

.

"Take that mad beast away." Greg heard Weasel's angry scream along the train's carriage. A broad smile erupted on his face. Apparently little Crooks was already having fun with that rat of Weaselbee's.

"He was here first," Hermione growled back. "He has a right to be here as well."

"He tried to eat Scabbers." Weasel whined. Potter was staying silent as usual. Greg liked him a tad more since last year, but still felt that he didn't deserve Granger's friendship and loyalty. Greg was certain she would risk her life to protect Potter without a second thought, and Potter didn't even stand up for her against Weaselbee.

"He's a cat, idiot." Greg's grin couldn't get broader, as Millie of all people jumped to Granger's defence. She didn't like Granger all too much, but she absolutely hated Weasel. "It's in his nature to hunt mice and rats – and contrary to your rat a cat is on the list of allowed pet types. It was written on our acceptance letters."

"And in Hogwarts, a History," Greg added, more to relax Granger than anything else.

"Your rat doesn't look all too well," Vince added without real compassion, looking like he wanted to decide if the rat would even be an acceptable morsel for a full-grown cat.

"It's the stress," Weasel responded, glaring at the cat like it was his fault.

_More like it doesn't get enough to eat or is simply too old_, Greg mused. It certainly did look aged. Whatever – with a last reassuring smile towards Hermione, Greg linked arms with Millie and continued down the train. He wanted to find a nicer compartment – far away from Weasel and Potty.

.

"What is happening?" Millie asked, sounding a bit concerned. "Why are we slowing down?"

They couldn't be near Hogsmeade already, Greg decided. He stuffed the cupcakes and chocolate into his pockets. Despite the purchase of Granger's cat, he still had more than enough money to buy sweets for his friends and him – his monthly allowance had been generously increased by his mother under the condition that his grades didn't drop. He already had plans how to ascertain it.

It got colder and darker now. There were screams down the corridor and Greg glanced in that direction. He gulped as he noticed a cloaked "something". He immediately recognized it, having heard stories about Azkaban and its dreadful guards more than once. "A Dementor? What is a blasted Dementor doing on the train?"

"What?" Vince's eyes widened. Like Greg he knew about the nature of those creatures, about their effect on humans. "Chocolate is helping against their aura," he announced, remembering something his uncle told him, who had been human guard at Azkaban for some time.

Greg acknowledged the titbit of information and distributed some chocolate frogs, pushing one into his mouth, while watching what happened. For a while, a couple of those creatures glided up and down the corridor, like they were searching for someone. They had a fearsome aura, but neither Greg nor his friends were all too influenced by it. Sometimes it was good to be a little thick-headed and slow. For a second he wondered how Hermione fared.

"They're looking for Sirius Black," Millie whispered like not to draw their attention with her voice. She was the most well-read among the three, at least regarding newspapers. Greg nodded. That made sense. If he remembered the story correctly, Black had something to do with the death of Potty's parents. Now he had escaped Azkaban and was on the run. Did the boy know? Supposedly not. Potter had never shown much knowledge about the magical society and its history, not even about his own family. Greg frowned. He couldn't imagine not knowing such things about his own family. Potty was either totally self-centred or someone was keeping those knowledge from him. Perhaps both.

"Boah, what's that?" Vince pointed down the corridor. Some strange light was visible there. It was shaped like a kind of silvery wolf and it seemed to chase the Dementors away. "Who do you think cast that spell?"

"No idea," Greg shrugged. He listened down the corridor and heard someone sobbing. "Let's have a look at the measly Firsties." Millie instantly agreed. She had a big heart in her broad chest. Vince followed them, more because he didn't want to be alone. He wouldn't admit it, but those Dementors made him queasy and more than a bit.

While Millie invaded a compartment filled with Slytherin second years to calm them down, Greg stepped into another one filled with ickle Firsties. _Have we ever been this small as well?_ Greg wondered, denying his own question. He certainly had always been a big boy. "Everything alright herein?" He asked, showing something he hoped would be a friendly, supportive smile.

He got some sobs in return. Two little girls were clinging to each other while a boy glared at them. Greg recognized him but not the girls. He was one of Nott's younger cousins. "Eat this," Greg handed out some chocolate. "Eat, it helps."

The girls accepted the chocolate and started to eat while the boy denied it. "You shouldn't squander your chocolate on those," the boy sneered.

_Those?_ Greg wondered. Being Firsties, none of them had any house affiliation so far. _Because they were girls?_

"They're Mudbloods," the boy continued. The girls obviously didn't understand the word but the demeaning.

"And you're a spoilt brat and an idiot," Greg coldly returned, feeling a little warm and fuzzy as he noticed the thankful look of the girls. "And don't use that word again," he added with a light slap to the boy's head.

The boy pouted. "I'll use that word as often as I wish. My father…"

Now it was Vince' turn to slap him, harder than Greg had done. "Your father isn't around. And you'll listen to Greg if you know what's good for you." He actually didn't care about the word Mudblood, but he didn't like the idea of another "wait until my father heard about that" spoilt Slytherin brat. And he had no doubt that Nott would join his cousin's house. It was time to make the boy aware of the Slytherin pecking order.

Greg offered the girls the chocolate Nott had declined and left with a small smile, only to find himself face to face with Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones. It was no surprise really that the bleeding heart Hufflepuffs had the same idea he did.

_Merlin, I'm turning into a Hufflepuff_, Greg realized with horror. He exchanged a curt nod with the girls and went looking for Millie. Susan watched him warily while Hannah showed a little smile in return. Hopefully the rest of the day turned out to be better than the start.

.

_**Scene Four – Hurt me**_

.

"Why does he have claws?" Millie asked, pointing towards the comic Greg was just reading. Like Vince she was allowed to know about his slightly weird penchant, Greg trusting them enough to open up about it. "Wouldn't a spell be more effective?"

"He can't use spells," Greg mumbled.

"He's a Muggle?" Millie frowned. While she didn't hate Muggle, she still was her mother's daughter. In her mind Muggles certainly weren't on par with wizards.

Greg pondered the question for a while, before he slowly shook his head. "No, he is kind of wizard as well, only his magic works in a different way. It makes him very strong and able to withstand many attacks. And he heals very fast. If you hit him with a cutting curse, he would bleed for a few seconds but then the wound would close again. Even a Reducto to the chest wouldn't put him down for long. Some of his foes have equal powers, so he needs other weapons – like those claws."

Millie nodded. That seemed reasonable. "It would be nice to heal this fast after getting hurt." She thought about some of the 'educational sessions' she had experienced in the past thanks to her stern father. The boys agreed, knowing exactly what Millie was thinking about. Regeneration would certainly come in handy sometimes.

.

"So we're together in Divination and magical Creatures as well?" Millie asked. She seemed very happy as the boys nodded. While Greg and she weren't in the kissy-kissy stage already, she liked to have him around very much, and Vince was alright too. Most of the other Slytherins ignored her or mocked her because of her appearance, now even more than before since she didn't belong to Pansy's entourage anymore.

"Yeah," Vince nodded. "Should be okay. Trelawney is funny, I heard."

"Hagrid certainly knows his stuff," Greg added. His not quite friendship but at least acquaintance with the half-giant was another secret he now shared with Vince and Millie. He had always been interested in magical creatures and Hagrid had never mocked him for being stupid or slow. Only the cookies were horrendous and the tea not much better.

Greg looked around. "And I'll take Muggle Lore as well."

"Why would you do that?" Millie asked slightly flabbergasted.

"Does your father know?" Vince wondered, sounding concerned.

"He doesn't so far," Greg shrugged.

"And when he learns about it?"

"I'll tell him that I wanted to know more about 'those unlucky ones without magic'. I'll make it sound like something similar to magical creature lessons." After a moment he added. "Mum knows about it. She's okay with it."

"Your mum is the best," Millie declared. Vince agreed. Greg smiled happily.

.

"The Grim. I see the grim in your cup." Professor Trelawney looked quite sad. "You'll meet your death this year. Oh, poor boy."

They had been sitting in Divination for nearly an hour now, with Professor Trelawney immensely amusing most of her students. Greg looked around to watch the reactions. Draco and Pansy looked like a dream come true. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil nodded sadly, hanging on every word of their teacher like she was some kind of messiah. And Hermione glared at the woman like she wanted to smash her cup on Trelawney's head.

"I see," Vince suddenly started, his voice deep and full of foreboding. "I see a year full of adventures waiting for Pothead, with injuries, hospital stays and many potion detentions."

Weasel fumed, Potter actually grinned and Trelawney listened with soaring enthusiasm.

Millie continued, after a short glare in Weasel's direction. "I see a year full of detentions for Weasel; Gryffindors getting ill by watching his table manners. I see temper tantrums and howlers from his mother."

Weasel looked ready to attack her. Only the sight of Vince and Greg smirking, ready to defend their friend, kept him back. He wasn't completely stupid.

"I see a year full of danger," Greg declared. Many listeners shuddered, remembering all too well the Headmaster's speech about the Dementors located at Hogwarts. "I see Potter charging ahead, Weasel clueless following him and Granger coming to the rescue. I see Potter and Weasel doing their homework at the last moment, begging Granger for help again and again and again."

Hermione looked somewhat annoyed – perhaps the prediction simply hit too close to be comfortable. Potter actually looked a tad guilty. _Perhaps he will learn something from this_, Greg mused. Weasel certainly not. The Redhead gave a very convincing impression of a burning matchstick.

"Very good," Professor Trelawney clapped. "Very good; I feel it: you have the inner eye."

Brown and Patil actually glared at the snake trio in jealousy. Greg felt good. Millie smirked. Vince happily munched a chocolate frog.

.

"_You have to be polite," Professor Hagrid explained. "Hippogriffs are very proud creatures. Walk slowly, stop a couple of steps away and bow. If he reciprocates the gesture, he accepts you."_

The explanation had been simple enough. Greg was walking towards another Hippogriff with Millie at his side, while Draco was speaking with Vince. His friend, while now even closer to Greg and Millie than before, still tried to be at least on speaking terms with the Malfoy scion. It was something Greg had mostly given up, at least as long as Draco was behaving like a rotten dunderhead – as he did right now.

"Hey, you ugly brute," he insulted the proud creature, walking towards it without the expected bow. "I don't know why they make such a fuss about you. You're nothing more than a…"

Vince had followed Draco, trying to stop him. Hagrid had been distracted by another group of students nearing a third Hippogriff. It was only Greg who noticed what was about to happen. And he reacted instantly. In a few seconds the Hippogriff would lash out against the stupid brat. Like so often in the past, he wouldn't be the only one suffering from his stupidity. Perhaps his sharp clawed hooves would knock some sense into the brat, but Greg doubted it. Just as Buckbeak lashed out, his hooves targeting for both boys as he didn't actually differentiate between Draco and Vince right now, Greg jumped his friend, pushing him away.

"Shit," he cursed as one of the hooves hit his shoulder. Right now he wished he had Wolverine's ability to instantly heal every wound. While Madam Pomfrey would certainly work her magic, right now it hurt like fire. At least Draco got hit as well.

"You alright?" Greg asked his friend.

Vince nodded. "Shouldn't I be the one asking this?" He wondered. "You're being the one bleeding on my robes and all." With a grunt Greg pushed himself from Vince and the ground, standing up a bit wobbly. It really hurt.

"He killed me, he killed me," Draco suddenly started to whine, not very convincingly – how many dead persons still had such a loud voice? – but nonetheless in an irritating way.

"Let me have a look," Hagrid demanded.

Draco jumped back, hiding behind Pansy. "Madam Pomfrey has to see this." He pressed his right arm against his chest. Greg frowned. There was blood, but not very much, and he didn't hear a bone break. Draco used his healthy arm to gesture towards Buckbeack: "this beast should be killed. That's a vicious monster. Wait until…"

"…my father hears about that," Greg and Millie finished in unison. Greg leaned on Millie for support and ignored Draco's glare. Greg felt a bit light-headed because of the blood loss. Perhaps it was because of this that he couldn't suppress a snicker when Draco started to complain about the pain, the whole performance ending with Hagrid closing the lesson and carrying Draco towards the hospital wing.

"Let me have a look," Hermione asked with a soft voice. Greg wanted to say no, but Millie had other ideas. After exchanging a long look with Hermione, she urged Greg to sit down and pulled his robe away. There was a long rip and much blood.

"Why do you care?" Ron complained.

"Because they're friends," Millie growled. "A concept you don't seem to grasp." After that she ignored the hated redhead, while Harry tried his best to calm down his mate.

Hermione cleaned the wound as best as she could and cast a spell to stop the bleeding. "We have to be careful getting him to Madam Pomfrey. I don't think I could use Mobilicorpus for such a long distance." She didn't even ask if Millie knew the spell as well, something that annoyed the big girl a bit. No, she actually never learned the spell, but still she hated to be treated like a dumbass. "Wait a moment."

Hermione stepped towards the trees and used a bit of magic to form some branches into a stretcher. Greg tried to object, but against Millie and Hermione he had no chance and somewhat later he found himself carried back like royalty – with Ron ambling behind and grousing the whole time.

"That was very brave of you," Hermione remarked after a while.

Vince simply grunted his agreement.

"It's the way he is," Millie said, with no small amount of adoration in her voice. "He's a hero." _My hero,_ her eyes said.

Instantly, Greg felt far better, the pain forgotten_. I'm a hero_.

.

_**Interlude 1 – Greet me**_

.

_Stalking through the field of ten-feet bamboo like a big predator cat on the hunt, Wolverine actually felt far more uneasy around this place than his masked face betrayed to the observer. The warlord of this chain of islands had offered him a chance to solve the dispute of the abducted children in a one-on-one battle. He only had to find and beat him in time. _

_What he regretfully forgot to mention was the magical aura of the place. Eternal fog was disturbing Wolverine's otherwise sharp senses, and there were eerie noises in the air, calling him from all sides and making him nervous – a feeling he hadn't often experienced in the past and didn't like one bit._

_No, he wouldn't allow the warlord to beat him with his mind games. I'll find you, Wolverine grated his teeth, flexing his arms and extending his wicked claws for a bit. And then I'll shred you. _

_Watch out!_

.

"Watch out!"

Millie's arm stopped Greg just in time. He had been deep in thoughts while meandering through the library corridors, thinking about the best way to address the 'Puff girls he was looking for. Without Millie's timely reaction he simply would have run down the tiny girl that suddenly blocked his path. Actually, Greg felt like Wolverine right now: out of his comfort zone, the smell and noises of the library – or lack of them – disturbing him. While he had started spending more time in the library, it still wasn't his preferred abode.

"Sorry," Greg mumbled, throwing Millie a thankful look.

"No harm done," the girl chirped back, not even looking up from her book. Greg noticed she held the book upside down, only then taking a real look.

_Ravenclaw_, his mind noticed the colour of her tie and robes.

_Blond_, he added. _Tiny, first year … no, second year as she wasn't newly sorted last week_.

Millie gently pulled his sleeve, nodding towards the duo of girls' a dozen steps ahead. Greg had been on his way to speak with them, hoping to convince Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot to be part of his study group. They were 'Puffs – students without any real talent as everybody knew. However, they were diligent in their work, and – even more important – willing to speak with a snake. Last year, while his many visits to the hospital wing, he had made their acquaintance. After some initial distrust they had mostly relaxed around him. Sometimes they still stared at him like they waited for the other shoe to drop, but they apparently appreciated what he had done for the petrified students – one of them being the Muggleborn 'Puff Fitch-something.

Greg made a parting nod and moved to follow Millie. "Miss…"

"Lovegood," she supplemented, still not looking up from her book – a book about Australian creatures he had liked himself very much because of the many pictures. According to the author a couple of the mentioned animal species already became extinct while others survived only at very hidden places. Greg wasn't certain about the trustworthiness of the author and his work, but he liked it nonetheless.

"Lovegood?" He stopped and turned around. "Related to Xenophilius Lovegood perhaps?"

The girl nodded. Some emotion crept into her eyes, an emotion that hadn't been there a second before: hope, but mixed with fear. _Why fear?_ Greg wondered. "He's my father," she responded, her voice a little bit shaky. Her eyes glanced to the shadows like expecting an attack.

"My mother spoke highly of him," Greg tried his best at soothing smile face – Millie noticed it and rolled her eyes. What Greg called "soothing smile" could easily make a crocodile proud.

"She did?" The girl asked with a rasping voice. Her face turning pink, she cleared her throat. "She did?"

"Yeah," Greg nodded. "They went to school together, and she always read your newspaper. Quibbler, isn't it?"

"Yes," the girl responded with her own smile, relaxing a bit.

"I liked the Billy the Gardener cartoon." Greg grinned. Millie had no idea what he was speaking about but watched the exchange with interest. She liked this carefree side of her boyfriend. Far too often he had to be careful nowadays, the Slytherin commons turning into a pit of vipers since their return. She didn't know that Abigail Goyle's preference for the Quibbler had spurred Greg's interest in all kind of creatures as a child. And while mother and son did their best not to annoy his father with the sight of "that imbecile trash", it had never been in doubt that Greg would choose "Care of magical Creatures" as one of his electives.

"It's one of my favourites as well," Luna grinned, slightly relaxing now.

"He had this funny head last autumn," Greg proved that he really knew the cartoon. It was a monthly addition to the Quibbler, a cartoon about a garden gnome giving tips about how to prepare the garden for all kind of unusual inhabitants – or how to keep them away in case of Nargles.

Luna's grin broadened if possible. The eagle head had been an addition by the cartoon illustrator, a little special for Luna getting sorted into Ravenclaw.

"We have to go, Greg," Millie interrupted.

"Oh, yeah, you're right." He threw Luna an apologetic look. "See you later, Miss Lovegood."

"Bye." Luna was already lost to the world again, deeply buried in her book.

.

"How do you know Looney?" Susan greeted the pair, her face betraying the feeling that she didn't expect anybody to object to the nickname.

"Don't call her that. Her name is Luna." Surprisingly it was Millie who growled back. She hated such nicknames, had herself been called all kind of unpleasantries in the past. And she remembered all too well another small girl that had been teased all day long for something she couldn't do anything about. The girl had died, and Millie had a crooked leg, but she would always remember her fondly.

Susan frowned, looking quizzical. Hannah shrugged, having no idea why the big girl objected. Slytherins weren't actually known for their kindness, especially not towards the weaker and weird ones.

"It's not nice," was all explanation they got. The matter was soon forgotten after Greg mentioned the reason of his visit.

"I have a plan and I could use your help…"

.

_**Scene 5 – Scare me**_

.

"You're ugly. You're stupid. What boy could ever like someone as you?"

Millie actually whimpered in the face of Boggart-Greg heaping insult after insult onto her, putting her fragile self-confidence into shambles. Hermione watched her with a pale face, her heart feeling with the big girl. While Ron had mocked her about "your Boggart certainly is Professor McGonagall telling you that you only got an EE in your latest assignment", she actually expected it to be something very similar to Millie's boggart. Even after two years of steady friendship with Ron and Harry, she still feared losing them, to be friendless again like she had always been in primary school.

"Ri…ddiku…Riddikulus!" Millie fumbled unable to complete the spell. She looked like she had expected the Boggart to turn into something else, and Hermione wondered what it could have been. After watching his girlfriend for a few moments more, realizing that she wouldn't be able to get rid of the Boggart, Greg stepped in front of her.

It was no surprise to him to see the Boggart react to the boy's presence, changing into the heart-breaking sight of a very dead Abigail Goyle. Despite being your typical "very manly" thirteen-year-old teenage boy, Greg had no qualms about admitting to himself that his mother was the most important person in his life. She was the one thing protecting him from his father's ire. She was the one adult who really cared about him as a person and not simply a way to continue the Goyle bloodline. For his whole life, she had been the one person praising him for his achievements, a parent willing to believe in him and to support his decisions. Abigail Goyle would be the first one to give him a good kick in the arse should he ever dare to speak to Millie like his Boggart did.

"Riddikulus!" Partly is was his natural thick-headedness that allowed him to execute the spell so easily, partly it was the pure anger and hot rage he felt right now about _his_ Millie being hurt. His dead mother turned into another witch, a witch that was snarling and cursing at him for being a stupid kid, only to get hit by the sunlight. The light petrified her within seconds, leaving behind a helpless sculpture to the astonishment of the onlookers. Witch and sculpture looked very similar to a middle-aged Bette Midler actually, but only a couple of Muggleborn noticed this; or remembered that there had been a film at the cinema this summer, presenting the famous actor in a fantasy film/comedy about three witches getting beaten up by a bunch of kids, by delaying their wicked plans until the morning sun turned them into statues like some stone troll from Tolkien's books. More than one of the Muggleborns stared thoughtful at the boy. Luckily Draco Malfoy had no idea what all of this was about; it stopped him from making a mess with questions about how Greg knew the Muggle film in the first place.

Professor Lupin, who had been pondering the riddle as well what exactly Greg Goyle had done to his Boggart, flinched back as the boy suddenly tore into him. "What a stupid idea; to have students face their worst fears in front of the whole class. Shame on you!"

"What's he fussing about?" Ron mumbled loudly, a frown on his face. "Stupid snake."

Harry and Hermione stayed silent, Harry because he didn't want to quarrel with his best mate, Hermione because she actually agreed with Greg but didn't want to say something against one of her favourite teachers. She had liked his lessons very much so far; she thought him to be the best DADA teacher they got since she started at Hogwarts. The Boggart lesson however could have been handled better. Even Professor Lupin seemed to be deep in thoughts now, distracted enough not to stop Greg as he gestured Vince to wrap up Millie's things before he gently pulled her towards the door.

Only the sound of the door closing behind the couple snapped Remus Lupin out of his thoughts. "Ehm … alright. We'll continue this next time. I want you to write six inches about your worst fear and how to turn it into something laughable."

"He should have started with this," Hermione whispered, low enough for Ron not to hear it.

Harry however did and agreed with a small nod. His Boggart would have been a Dementor, he just knew it; and he had no wish to face it with the class watching it. _No, absolutely not_.

.

Professor Snape had been worse than ever towards Neville Longbottom. The reason was clear to Greg, and it was only another reason to be unhappy about the whole Boggart lesson. Certainly someone – a Malfoy someone – had nothing better to do than to tattle about the lesson and how Neville turned his Boggart-Snape into Augusta-fashion-Snape complete with Vulture-hat. The dour potion master obviously hadn't liked this little tidbit one bit, but instead of confronting Professor Lupin about it, he had vented his anger on the poor boy.

"You should speak with Professor Snape about it on your next lesson," Millie told him a bit later. She was the only one who knew about his Occlumency lessons with Snape. Greg was no natural in the difficult art. He would never be able to stop an accomplished Legilimens from entering his mind, and Professor Snape had told him so. However, he was making progress at least, and soon he would be able to erect a feasible defence against someone like his father or even Malfoy senior who according to Professor Snape was only mediocre in that art. Greg was happy about the progress, despite the headache he got from every lesson. Professor Snape even gave an approving nod last time. Greg was so proud. Wolverine himself wouldn't accomplish better.

"I know," he nodded his agreement. "It's not Neville's fault."

He actually liked the boy. Neville was nice, shy and happy about anybody treating him with friendliness and respect – even a pair of sneaky snakes. He had – after asking Hermione, as Greg heard – agreed to join their learning group. It now encompassed, apart from Neville, Greg, Vince and Millie, mostly Slytherins and Hufflepuffs from year two to four, with Miles Bletchley, Marcus Belby and Katie Bell being the oldest so far. Katie only joined from time to time and mostly because she wanted to support Greg. She still hadn't forgotten his last-year hospital readings to Hermione and Colin Creevey, an action that earned him some hefty brownie points in her books. Betchley and Belby on the other hand hoped to get help from the others as they struggled with most of their classes. From Gryffindor only Vicky Frobisher added to their number as well, while Hufflepuff Roger Malone and Oliver Rivers joined Susan and Hannah after a while. They didn't really need those sessions, but wanted to protect the girls, still unsure about the seriousness of Greg's change of heart since he left Draco Malfoy behind.

He felt a bit sorry that Ginny Weasley had rejected his offer. While she always wore the small chain with the silver-encased tooth pendant – the tooth from Draco Malfoy she got as wergild last year – she had kept her distance to Greg, only smiling shyly and a little sadly when her brother wasn't around. At least she didn't change back to the "all Slytherins are evil" mode like Weasel-Ron did. The stupid moron obviously "recovered" from his phase of actually using his pea-brain and was convinced that Greg and Vince were still in leagues with Malfoy. Greg shook his head with a snicker. Somehow Weasel had convinced himself that Greg's behaviour was only one big plan to infiltrate the poor Gryffindors, only waiting to stab them in the back after he earned their trust. It was nearly a compliment, Greg mused, that the redheaded moron thought him capable of executing such a complicated long-term plan.

_As if he ever would go back to the prat_, Greg mused. There had been some quarrels in the Slytherin commons about "Slytherins stay to themselves", with Draco leading the mob. The frontiers were clearly drawn now, with Pansy, Nott – both cousins as expected – Blaise and a slightly uneasy Daphne Greengrass supporting Malfoy. Once Professor Snape actually had to step in and stop a fight. He told off both sides and since then they kept the quarrelling mostly under the blanket.

Over the weeks, the grades of the study group improved steadily, prompting Tracey Davis to join them after a while. Derrick and Bole, the worst students of the OWL class, wanted to follow her lead, but Draco stopped them, making them choose between study group and Quidditch team. They decided in favour of the team, unlike Vince who had quit the team when Draco tried to blackmail him as well. _Vince is a real mate_, Greg thought happily.

A number of Firsties from all houses, the pair of Muggleborn girls from the train among them, had started to study near their group as well, hoping to get help from time to time. They really did, and to everybody's surprise Millie had shown quite some teaching talent – and the necessary patience.

Yes, his study group was coming along quite well. He would never challenge someone like Granger or that 'Claw- Patil grade-wise, but he was really happy with his grades and overall progress.

And his mother would be as well. _The sweets of the next term are secured_.

.

_**Scene 6 – Trick or Treat (me)**_

.

The small but very mixed group certainly drew some attention as they followed the trail to Hogsmeade. It was the first Hogsmeade visit ever for Greg and his friends. He only listened with half an ear to Hermione's babbling about last month's DADA lessons. After the Boggart éclat, Professor Lupin had turned to safer matters like how to defend against Redcaps and Kappa. Greg had his own opinion about that stuff. While Redcaps were a real danger – mostly to Muggles and Squibs but also to less powerful Wizards like himself – he saw no sense in teaching the dangers of Japanese water demons. It had been interesting nonetheless and so he endured it with a patient smile.

"I really liked…"

Hermione went on and on. Greg had no doubt that she did it mostly to distract her troubled mind. In a way he benefitted from her long experience with the red-headed dunderhead. Apparently she was used to mostly silent listeners. An acknowledging grunt from time to time was everything needed to keep her happy. Greg glanced back for a moment and exchanged a small smile with Millie. His girlfriend was walking with Hannah and Susan, exchanging tips about where to go in Hogsmeade for clothes and other girlie knickknacks. Vince and Tracey came in last. They didn't talk as much as they were too different in mindset and preferences. Actually Tracey only accompanied them for protection as she had gotten into some trouble with Pansy and the Notts since joining Greg's group. Luckily the pug-nosed girl had stepped back a little, at least within the girls' dorm, since Millie roughed her up a bit – and threatened Daphne she would be the next if she didn't put her act together.

Pothead and Weasel – Greg had to suppress a growl, thinking about the dunderhead duo. Apparently, Professor McGonagall didn't allow Potter to visit Hogsmeade; a clever decision in his book, with a mass murderer out there to kill Wonderboy. Not that there would be many Slytherin tears on the horizon about Potter getting himself killed. Greg, Millie and Vince didn't share the opinion of their house about the boy-who-lived and his imminent death, but mostly because of Hermione and her sibling-feelings towards the boy. At least he hoped it was only sisterly love and not some crush she nursed. He could live without lovey-dovey eyes. And while he didn't want Potter's death, the Slytherin trio shared the urge right now to teach the black-haired git some manners about how to treat a friend.

.

"_Why are you crying?" Greg asked. He felt helpless around crying girls, had always done._

_Hermione was sitting on one of her favourite places, the one she always used when the red-headed menace did something stupid. Her eyes were red and puffy, her voice shaky from sobbing. "Crooks…"_

_Greg frowned. Crookshanks was alright as far as he knew. He had seen the tomcat only an hour ago, chasing Midnight around, the pitch black cat of some 5__th__ year 'Claw. Crooks had a little crush on the beautiful cat, obviously. Equally obvious was it that Midnight thought different about the matter, something that didn't stop the orange fur-ball from chasing after her. _

"_Weasel and his stupid rat again?" Greg guessed. Hermione's small nod affirmed his idea._

"_He was chasing him around and tried to hurt him," Hermione explained._

_Greg's frown deepened. "Crooks the rat or Weasel the cat?" He asked._

"_Both," Hermione hiccupped. "He's calling Crooks a beast and all. A menace…"_

_Greg grinned. "Weasel would know everything about being a menace, wouldn't he?"_

_The statement at least prompted a small smile from Hermione._

.

Since then Weasel the prick hadn't been on speaking terms with Hermione, and Potter – again – had allowed it to happen. Like so often, Hermione's supposed best friend kept his mouth shut and stayed at Weasel's side. _Perhaps a fist in the face would teach him the wrongs of his ways_, Greg mused darkly.

Naturally, Weasel's recent behaviour hadn't stopped him from glaring at "Granger the traitor" when she passed him in the entrance hall, accompanied by Greg and his friends. _Stupid prick that he was_.

.

"What do you think will happen to Harry?"

Hermione's out of nowhere question caught them by surprise. They were gathering the troops for the return trip after some nice hours in the village. Millie and Hermione had gotten along more or less, even teaming up for a trip to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop after the group had plundered Honeydukes of all things edible.

Greg looked up from his bag. Luckily, he had remembered in time to buy something for Hagrid as well. The big man with the even bigger heart had accepted Greg's apology for past behaviour without hesitation. It certainly had helped that Greg had convinced Hermione to accompany him on that dreaded trip to the ComC Professor's wooden hut. Hagrid had been unhappy because of the fuss Malfoy created about the Hippogriff matter, but had been thankful about Greg's moral support and Hermione's assistance in finding arguments for the pending hearing. Still, Greg thought that some sweets were in order to show Hagrid that Greg's former hesitance to speak with him had nothing to do with his opinion about him and his giantish heritage.

Right now, the bushy-haired girl was playing with a small package of sweets she bought for Potter and looked thoughtful. The boy certainly didn't deserve it. Perhaps he had a chance to spit on it later when Hermione wasn't looking. Vince would like it, and Millie would be a little disgusted. "Why should anything happen to him?" Greg wondered loudly.

"It's Halloween," Hermione answered with a shrug. "Every Halloween something happens to him."

He thought about it for a moment. She was right, actually. First year there had been the incident with the troll – the one that started this friendship between a lion and a snake. Last year there had been the case of the petrified cat. _Mrs Norris hanging from the wall, what happy days_, Greg smiled. Not to forget that little incident twelve years ago with a Dark Lord failing to kill the boy.

Greg sighed. "We'll see. We can only hope." He didn't care to explain if he hoped something good or bad to happen to Potter.

It was only a couple of hours later, right after the feast, he learned about the newest case of "Potter Halloweenitis": Sirius Black had tried to force his way into the Gryffindor commons.

_Trick or Treat indeed._

.

_**Interlude 2 – Collect me**_

.

Greg was in a good mood as he sauntered down the corridors of Hogwarts towards his destination. The last couple of days had been good to him. While Millie hadn't allowed Vince and him to rough up Weasel and Potter like he wanted to, Lady Fate hadn't been a bitch for once but decided to make him happy. At the Gryffindor Hufflepuff Quidditch game – Malfoy was still milking his "terrible injury" and got the first Slytherin game delayed by a few weeks – there had been some Dementors around, their presence unseating the golden boy in mid-air. What a lovely sight, Potter plummeting to the ground like a shooting star. Only Hermione's anxious scream had spoiled the mood a bit. Did she really expect Potter to get seriously injured with the Headmaster around? Dumbles would never allow something to happen to his precious boy, Greg sneered. And the best thing about the incident? Potter's broom got within reach of the Whomping Willow and was a better kind of firewood now. Potter had been in tears about it, Weasel even more so. Splendid.

No, he hadn't forgiven them their behaviour, even after they graciously allowed Hermione back into their little group. Not that he liked the girl much more right now. She had looked a little sad and guilty, but still she turned her back on him as soon as the terrible duo welcomed her back. Millie of all people had tried to explain: "they were her first friends. You would be the same with Vince." He understood her reasoning. Still it was silly to compare a mate like Vince with a prick like Weasel. Sometimes his girlfriend was simply too nice.

A second reason for his good mood was Professor Snape's announcement that he would take over teaching DADA for the rest of the week. Professor Lupin wasn't feeling well – again – and for once there would be something to learn "worth your time", his house head promised. Greg was eager to see what Professor Snape had in mind.

Concentrating on the way ahead, he noticed a pair of 'Claw girls coming down the corridor. Apparently, they had left a secondary corridor only seconds before – a secondary that led nowhere as far as he remembered. The girls giggled and bantered in a playful manner. They were whispering and far too happy not to give him the creeps. It was one word in their banter however that nearly made him stop: "Looney."

He waited for the girls to round the next corner, before he turned back and entered the side corridor as well. A window, looking down onto the Forbidden forest; a single door on the left, to his knowledge leading to a small storage room Argus Filch used; on the right wall was a medium-sized painting.

"Hello boy," the man in the painting greeted him. "Good to see you again; feared you'd totally forgotten about me."

"Never, Sir," Greg responded, doing his best to stand at attention. It was one of the few things he had learned from his father. "How are you doing on this fine day, Commander Pomeroy?" He had visited the painting a couple of times before, and came to like the gruff old man. Commander Pomeroy had been one of the few pureblood wizards who turned their back to the magical world and entered the Muggle society. Sometime in the 19th Century he had been an officer of the Royal British Navy, and he still loved to tell stories about the good ol' times. And Greg liked to listen. It was like comics, only with sound.

"Quite well if a tad boring, boy. Not many visitors around."

Greg nodded gravely. "Speaking of visitors: you didn't happen to notice a pair of girls in this corridor a couple of minutes ago?"

"Right you are I noticed them," Commander Pomeroy puffed his chest. "Giggling and cackling, the lot of them; not very ladylike, I have to remark." He shook his head sadly before he nodded towards the door. "Went in there; certainly had something unsavoury in mind. I simply know it. Have a book hidden therein."

"A book?" Greg asked with a deep frown.

"My eyes are sharp as ever, young man."

"I didn't doubt you, Sir," he hastened to placate him. "I only wondered."

"Certainly something they don't want to be caught with, something about dark magic or…" he looked around to assure that nobody was listening. "Or sex," he added with disgust in his voice."

Greg widened his eyes comically. Commander Pomeroy nodded curtly. "You'll see," he affirmed.

"I'll better have a look," Greg agreed, hoping that the painting was wrong. He had no interest in books about dark magic and Millie wouldn't be all too amused about the other kind. However, he expected something quite different. So, he approached the door and tried to open it. Regretfully the door didn't budge.

"They closed it magically," Commander Pomeroy superfluously explained.

_I hadn't guessed_, Greg groaned inwardly. Luckily, Vince and Greg had learned the Alohomora spell in between. The spell was really helpful from time to time for getting something to eat. Hermione had used the spell in her first year already; the friends had learned it a year later. Now he was mediocre competent in using it, something that allowed him to enter the cobwebbed room without much difficulty.

"Amateurs," Greg groaned as he noticed the foot prints leading through the room. He didn't need to have Wolverine's senses to guess the "hidden stash" of the 'Claws. Moments later he had the book mentioned by Commander Pomeroy in his hands. It was a collection of photographs, actually, a collection belonging to Luna Lovegood as the book title proudly announced.

Greg sat down on a dusty crate and had a closer look. There were pictures of a pair that could have been Luna's parents. He remembered a picture of her father in the Quibbler – only he had been twenty years older then – and the woman was a spitting image of Luna. A wedding, a couple of pictures from a visit to the sea and others from a picnic with toddler-Luna followed. He smiled broadly as he noticed a picture of Luna helping her father with the printing press – the girl was messed up with printing ink and her father didn't look much better. Luna grew in the pictures over the next pages, but the presence of her mother stopped after a while. He didn't remember what happened to her mother? Did she leave – or die?

Greg gently closed the book. Whatever the reason for her absence, Luna would certainly miss the book. "Stupid bitches," Greg cursed loudly and kicked the crate. Hiding something like this was a malice Malfoy would commit – or those blasted 'Claws apparently. Weren't they meant to be family to Luna? _And they called his house evil_, Greg sneered. Carefully he stored the book in his bag, closed the door and said his farewell to Commander Pomeroy – not without promising his return next week.

_He had a certain tiny professor to visit._

.

_**Scene 7 – Condemn me**_

.

"Professor Lupin," Severus Snape uttered the title like it caused him pain, "is feeling a little under the weather. So I'll fill in for today, giving you a chance to actually learn something useful."

The reactions were as expected: Malfoy and his cronies looked like Christmas had come early and the Gryffindors groaned in annoyance, their mood not getting any better as Snape started to lay in on Professor Lupin and his supposed faults, his critic even worse than usual. The bitter enmity had even been a matter of Greg's last letter to his mother. Regretfully, she only knew that the hate dated back to Professor Snape's own schooldays but had no details about its reasons.

Greg glanced towards the golden trio that was a trio again. Pothead looked worse than before, partially because of Snape certainly, but another reason Greg expected to be the news about Sirius Black. Somehow the boy-wonder had learned at last about Black's betrayal of his family, how he had caused his parents' murder and the assumed reason of his break-out: he was out there hunting Pothead. This alone wouldn't trouble Greg all too much. While he got along a little better with the golden boy these days than before, they still couldn't be called friends. However, someone endangering Pothead would be a danger to Hermione's health as well. She was far too loyal and stubborn not to try defend her friend even against a known mass-murderer. _Bloody Gryffindorks!_

"Today we'll focus on the details of Werewolves," Snape continued. "We'll speak about how to identify them, what makes them apart from other wizards, why they are dangerous and," he grinned evilly, "how to put them down."

Greg's ears pricked up. Werewolves had always interested him. He already read a couple of books about the matter, starting with "running with werewolves", Lockhart's ridiculous novel, up to far more serious books covering the material. He hadn't expected to have the topic covered this early. If he remembered correctly, it belonged to the year four or five curriculum. While some of the books spoke about "possibilities" and how to integrate them, about strange Indian packs that lived "in harmony with their inner wolf", Greg expected Professor Snape to follow the more wide-spread line of fear and hate: _Only a dead werewolf is a good werewolf_.

Snape didn't disappoint him.

.

In silence, Greg sat down at the table Hermione was occupying on her own. He had waited for her friends to depart and even left Millie behind to have this serious discussion in private. Hermione glanced to him before staring at her book again, her cheeks blushing a little in embarrassment and no small amount of guilt. For a while neither said a word, before the girl broke the silence.

"Greg, I'm sorry…"

_Sorry, that I returned to my other friends. Sorry, that I left you again and wasn't brave enough to stay friends with you. _The words were there, unspoken. Greg heard them nonetheless.

"It's alright," Greg calmly responded.

Hermione looked up, her eyes wide in surprise. There wasn't the mocking, the haughty return she would get from Ron. There was simple acceptance only.

"Millie explained it to me," he continued, a small smile playing around his lips as he thought about his girlfriend. It did more to convince Hermione about his seriousness than the words itself. Only a few friends were allowed to see this side of him. And she apparently still belonged to this special circle.

"She did?" Hermione asked hoarsely.

"Yeah," Greg nodded. "They were your first friends and all. Naturally you'll try to get back to them." He frowned for a moment, looking troubled. "I won't lie to you: I'm still a little pissed right now," her blush deepened, but she didn't chastise his language. "But I'm still your friend."

"Thank you," she responded with a small voice.

Greg curtly nodded, closing the matter – for now. He put the paper he had been holding the whole time and pushed it in front of her. It was his essay about Werewolves.

Hermione stared at it and frowned. Naturally she had already done the essay herself, days ago actually. Most students had stalled the work, hoping that Professor Lupin would cancel it after his return. She expected that to happen, especially after her own … realizations … about the professor's "malady".

"You want me to proof-read it?"

"No," Greg shook his head. "Hannah already did it." His response actually hurt her a bit. It was an open secret – at least to her friends – that Hermione got a big part of her self-esteem from her "know-it-all" status, despite her hating the nickname. She was one of the best students around and, starting back in primary, many others only endured her sometimes bossy behaviour because of her schoolwork help.

"I'm not your friend because I want you to do my work," Greg calmly explained, his words telling her that her thoughts had been wide open on her face. After a moment of embarrassment, they caused a wave of happy feelings in her gut. Trying to distract herself from comparing Greg with Ron's past behaviour, she pointed towards the paper: "what about this?"

Greg's face turned a little sour. He breathed deeply, struggling for word. Hermione calmly waited for him to start, an uneasy feeling gripping her. "He's a werewolf, isn't he?"

Hermione paled, her eyes widening. _He knew? He knew_.

Greg nodded, like expecting her reaction. "I knew you'd realize it as well."

Hermione gulped. "Did you tell anybody?"

"Nobody so far," his response relieved her fears.

"Please don't tell anybody," she urged.

"Why not?" He simply asked.

_Yes, why not_, she wondered herself. Hermione knew that he didn't like Professor Lupin, not like Harry or she did. "It would be unfair to him," she tried to argument, his face telling her that he wasn't convinced. "He's a good teacher." Greg scoffed. "Yes, he is," Hermione repeated, "better than the two teachers before."

He lifted a single eyebrow. _Not much to beat there_.

Hermione sighed. "He deserves a chance."

"And what about the students?" Greg wondered. "He's a danger to everyone."

"He's not," she yell-whispered struggling to keep her voice down in case Madam Pince was around. "He's really not. Harry told me Professor Snape had him drink a potion."

"Wolfsbane?"

Hermione nodded. She didn't know for sure but it had to be. "I think he's locking himself up for the dangerous nights and he's drinking the potion. He's no danger to us."

"Are you certain?" Greg asked anew, "really certain? Certain enough to bet the lives of the other students on it?"

Hermione gulped again, looking like fainting right now. _Dumbledore trusts him_, she wanted to say, but kept her mouth shut. Greg wouldn't accept that argument, holding the headmaster not in the same high esteem as she did. "I trust him," she simply said in the end, trying to sound more convinced than she actually felt. Apparently it was enough for now.

"Alright," Greg accepted it. "I'll keep my mouth shut about it – for now. But I'll watch him closely." _And I'll write mum about that silver knife of hers._

"Thank you." Hermione could only hope that her decision proved right.

.

_**A/N**_

_See you on Wednesday._


	4. Chapter 4 Claws of Destiny - Part Two

_**A/N**_

_**Here is page of Greg's year 3 adventures.**_

**.**

_**Interlude 3 – Protect me**_

.

It had only been a couple of days since she got her precious photo album back. Only she knew how it had come into Professor Flitwick's possession, and she would be eternally grateful about Greg Goyle's compassion. Luna had been in tears when her head of house handed her back the one possession that held a special place in her heart, one of the few things she had as a memento of her late mother. Professor Flitwick had been a bit flustered, unsure how to react to her emotional breakdown. He patted her on her back and said some soothing words, none of them she remembered now.

Over the next week three things happened. First, her belongings stopped to vanish from her dorm. Being honest to herself, Luna realized the Nargles not to be the reason behind the things stolen. It had been easier, however, to pretend like this. Second, two of the girls belonging to the circle of bullies harassing her had been sentenced to detentions with Hagrid. Normally that wouldn't be a real punishment, but according to the faces of the pair of culprits the detentions hadn't been to their liking at all. Hagrid, assumedly, had been far more dour than usual, causing the girls to compare him with Filch of all people. His mood could simply have been because of Buckbeak's pending trial, but Luna had a hunch that "someone" told the usually so laid back Professor about the detention's reason.

The third consequence hadn't been as pleasant. It had started with hateful looks. Wherever she went, the girls followed her with their eyes, their faces grimaces of hate. Next came pushing and shoving. Several times she lost her footing after someone tripped her, so far only in corridors and classrooms but not on the stairs. Luna feared it was only a question of time until something seriously injuring happened instead of only a besmirched assignment, rumpled books or a couple of bruises – bruises like the one that had been treated by Madam Pomfrey right now. The elderly Matron had asked her about the source of the bruised shin and knee, but Luna had kept her mouth shut. Perhaps it had been the wrong decision.

.

"What's up?" Vince loudly wondered but willingly followed Greg. His friend had been whispering quite urgently with Marcus Belby only moments ago, the single 'Claw that belonged to their study group. Now he was dragging Vince towards the hospital wing, his face a grimace of concern and anger.

"It's about Lovegood, isn't it?" Millie asked. She knew that face. Greg was in pure "Superhero is pissed and ready for action" mode. He would extend those steel claws he got from Josh, his American cousin, last summer, if he dared to show them openly. _"They're exactly like Wolverine's."_ Greg had been ecstatic.

Greg nodded curtly. "They want to hurt her." He growled and for a second Millie felt pity for "them", before that feeling was replaced by concern about the endangered tiny blonde. "They blame her for their detentions."

Millie put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly. A cissy like Potter would get a bruise by such a gesture, but Greg appreciated her support in the matter. "We'll protect her," she promised.

.

"What have you told her?" The spiteful voice stopped Luna cold. Glancing around she noticed four girls moving in to surround her.

"We hate tell-tales," a second added with an equal amount of scorn.

"I said nothing," Luna calmly replied. It was of no use and she already knew it.

"We don't believe you," the first shot back, pushing Luna quite hard. The blonde forced her tears back and clang to her school bag like a shield. She could have drawn her wand, but she was only a second-year and there were four of them. Fighting back would only aggravate the consequences.

"Because of you we got detention," a third pushed her from behind, making her bag fly from her grip and crash to the ground. There was a clanking sound like something breaking. Only moments later the leather started to change colour because of the spoiled ink.

"Detention with Hagrid," the last one added, shoving her into the wall strong enough to cause another bruise. Her head hit the stone and Luna felt groggy for a moment.

"You'll pay for this," the ring-leader threatened. "Grab her," she ordered two of her companions. They followed swiftly and moved to grab her arms. Only now did she draw her wand, far too late. Luna only got a single stinging hex off, making one girl yelp in pain, before the others seized and disarmed her. Seconds later they dragged her down a corridor, leaving behind her wand and the bag, the ink slowly creating a little pool on the ground.

"I could tell you this will hurt us more than you," the ring-leader mocked. "However, that would be a lie."

.

"SHIT!" Greg stared at the lone bag on the ground. _Too late_, _they arrived too late_. He picked up the wand, its presence a bad sign.

"Stop it," Millie growled, looking around. Three corridors, the one they arrived through, the one leading to the hospital wing, leaving…

"Down there," she commanded and rushed down the empty corridor with surprising speed.

"No running in the corridors," Greg teased, feeling better now than a minute before.

"Shut up," Millie barked back, but a tiny smile softened the deal. Vince followed in silence, Luna's bag in his hands as he tried not to besmirch his robe with the dropping ink. _Filch will have a fit_, he smirked.

Luckily the abductors weren't too far ahead, and so they only had to reach the next crossroads before the noises of their steps became audible. Millie gestured: _down there_. Greg nodded and rushed ahead, proving that he still spent quite some time with physical training. His broad body wasn't fat only, far from it. Vince was huffing and puffing to keep up while Millie allowed them to get ahead. _I should join Greg more often in his training_, she mused watching him. _Training is doing him good_, she grinned to herself.

They rushed around the corner, their heavy steps startling the group ahead. They let go of the blonde girl and turned around, prompting Greg to growl threateningly. He hurried to Luna's side and bent down, while Vince followed more slowly, putting the bag down to the side while blocking the escape route. He grinned, not a very pleasant sight. _This was going to hurt_.

"Are you okay?" Greg asked with a surprisingly gentle voice. Vince had only heard him talk like this around injured animals. His friend was really a little Hagrid in the making. Luna looked up, her eyes red und puffy, scared like a wounded hare. Growling like a caged lion, Greg stood up and rushed one of the girls, pushing her against the wall with enough force to make her ears ring.

"She didn't tell Flitwick about the photo album. I did." He kept her in place against the wall, his broad hand on her chest, his face only inches apart from her pale one. "If you want to take revenge, try coming after me. But you're too much of a coward for that."

One of the other girls slowly drew her wand to hex Greg in the back. She stopped as a massive hand clenched around her wrist and pressed. With a yelp she let go and her wand clattered on the ground. "I wouldn't do that if I were in your stead," Vince stated calmly.

"Why are you defending her?" One of the other girls asked Greg. "It's only Looney…"

Her eyes widened as she saw Greg let go of her mate and rush towards her. "Her name is Luna." She stumbled back in a weak attempt to flee him. Tripping over her own feet she went to the ground in a heap. Greg followed her step by step as she tried to dodge back until a wall hit her back, leaving her no route of escape. His face promised pain. The girl raised her arms in defence.

"You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?" One of the others tried to distract Greg. It actually worked and he stopped. "I mean: you're a pureblood. Pureblood gents don't hurt a lady."

Greg scoffed: "you're far from a lady. You're only a stupid bint." She grimaced at the insult, relaxing as he continued. "But you're right: I won't hurt a girl." The four girls sighed with relief, one of them even daring to throw a haughty look towards Luna.

Greg watched them calmly with a stony face, glancing over her shoulder down the corridor.

"Millie, it's your turn."

.

_**Scene 8 – Punish me**_

.

"Never in all my years have I seen such a horrid behaviour." The sentence was only the last statement of a rant that had lasted several minutes so far.

Greg, Vince and Millie had been called into the staff room. All four house heads were present. At least the headmaster wasn't around, taking care of one of his many other duties. Greg remembered his mother complaining about the man's far too many duties and how they interfered with each other. It was one of the few topics his parents agreed upon.

Professor Snape looked a little bored. Madam Sprout was frowning deeply, her usually calm and warm face showing how much she shared Professor McGonagall's opinion about the matter, the Gryffindor lioness shouting and growling at the three culprits like her namesake would. She was red-faced and a single curl of hair had escaped her strict bun. Among the four heads only Professor Flitwick showed some compassion – and no small amount of guilt. _Rightfully so_, Greg mused who partially faulted Professor Flitwick for not stopping the bullying in his house.

"It was a fight between students," Filius started weakly, "that got a bit out of hand."

"Out of hand?" McGonagall screeched like a banshee, making even Vince flinch. "A broken arm, a couple of bruised rips, a ripped ear, two cases of concussion and a shattered jaw – I wouldn't call that 'a bit out of hand'."

Greg couldn't do anything about it: he felt proud of Millie, hearing the result of her little scuffle. It had started with her slapping around the other girls a bit, pulling hairs and kicking shins. However, with the arrival of a couple more students it evolved into a full-grown battle with quite a number of students having to get treatment from a seriously pissed Madam Pomfrey afterwards. When the teachers arrived and the dust settled, only the trio of Slytherins was still standing. It didn't help their defence that they were relatively unharmed, proof of their fitness – and the endless hours of Greg and Vince sparring with each other.

"It was self-defence." Surprisingly, it was Millie's calm voice that stopped the rant.

"Don't you dare call your unprovoked…"

"Self-Defence," Millie interrupted without remorse, "is an act to avert a danger to oneself or on behalf of another person." It was actually something she learned from one of his comics.

McGonagall looked like biting on a sour lemon. "Self-defence still demands the application of adequate force. And who were you defending in the first place?"

"Miss Lovegood," Professor Flitwick interjected. Professor Snape narrowed his eyes at Greg, silently promising _we'll talk about this later_.

Professor McGonagall calmed visibly and sat down. "Miss Lovegood?" She had guessed in the past that the girl had been harassed by some of the students, only she had expected it to be Slytherins – not other Ravenclaws.

"They hit her," Greg started slowly, his voice getting steadier the longer he spoke. "They stole her things, locked her out in the night, besmirched her assignments, and broke her ink well." Vince lifted his left hand, still covered with dark ink. "They tripped her and pushed her around. It was only a question of time until something serious happened to her. We had to defend her."

"It's his job," Millie nodded. "Heroes defend the weak and helpless."

Professor McGonagall blinked at the odd statement. Snape felt slightly ill, watching the soppy look the young couple shared. "You could have gone to a teacher."

"Wasn't that the job of the 'Claw Prefects?" Vince snarked. Naturally he was right. The Claw Prefects had obviously failed in the matter, Flitwick silently admitted.

"Only Miss Clearwater was helpful," Greg added. The headgirl had arrived in the heat of the fight, dragging Luna away into safety, who had gone down and had been in danger of being trampled. It had earned her a black eye but she didn't complain afterwards. Instead, Penelope even nodded her approval towards the trio and had gone to her head of house, speaking in their defence.

"I'll have to look into the matter and why none of the Prefects intervened in the past," Flitwick announced, causing Millie to huff. "It's because of the Chang bitch and her lackeys."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes but Millie didn't back off. "Care to explain?"

"Chang and some of the other girls in her little circle are encouraging the others to harass Luna. She hasn't any friends as far as I know and she's a little…" _weird_, she answered, leaving the last word unspoken.

"She is special," Greg announced with conviction in his voice. "She's a real Claw with how much she loves to learn. And she's really nice," he added after a moment, having even Vince agreeing with a nod. "She didn't deserve this." He looked up and stared first McGonagall and then Flitwick straight in the eye. "I would do it again."

The message was clear: _do something about it or we'll do_.

.

Greg paled. For a moment he imagined to hear Professor Snape snicker but he certainly erred about that. He had called Greg into his study, only to confront the boy with the stormy-faced sight of his enraged mother. Abigail Goyle was on the warpath and Greg only hoped he would be able to convince her to aim at someone different.

"Care to explain how you got four weekends of detentions?"

Greg flinched. The verdict had been surprisingly light in the end. Madam Sprout had supported Professor Flitwick in his claim that the trio had been "well-meaning but a little heavy-handed" in the matter. Loyalty to a friend was something she respected. For the next four weekends he would work with Flinch on Saturdays and Hagrid on Sundays. It could have been worse. Vince would be with him, while Millie would be working with Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. Professor Flitwick's investigation was still ongoing, but there was talk about most of the Claw prefects being on probation, and the quartet of bullies weren't left unpunished either.

"You do remember Xenophilius Lovegood, mother?" Greg asked, trying to distract her by reminding her of her fondness for Luna's father and the Quibbler.

"Yes," she responded curtly. "What has he got to do with the matter?"

"I met his daughter. We talked about the Quibbler." Abigail calmed down a little, fondness shining in her eyes "She adores the work of her father. The other students harassed her because of it." Greg knew that it had mostly been the quirky behaviour of the girl that started the harassment, but he was Slytherin enough to turn this into an attack onto his mother's beliefs as well. It was like his father scoffing about Abigail's "weird interests" all over again. "We had to stop it."

"Naturally you had to, dear," Abigail full-heartedly agreed, doing a one eighty. "It was your duty to do so." Greg glanced in Professor Snape's direction and saw a hint of approval in his eyes; approval because of his Slytherin tactic, not because of the defending.

"You're lucky that Professor Snape called me to clear this up and not your father."

Greg nodded, musing how much it hadn't been luck but foresight on the part of Professor Snape.

"You're still doing well in school?" Abigail Goyle asked, the question more directed towards Snape.

"There is still room for improvement," Snape answered with a neutral voice, "but he is getting there. His little study group had been surprisingly successful."

_So he knew about that too_, Greg mused. No surprise there, Malfoy had been bitching about it often enough, especially with the other houses involved in the group. Still, the statement was praise as far as he would get from the dour house head.

Abigail Goyle was content. It had been a risk to deny her husband's wishes in the matter, but it seemed like it was paying off. Better grades, more self-confidence and friends in other houses – this could only help with her son's future – his future without a dark mark. She stepped forward, suppressing a smile as Greg flinched. He relaxed as she opened her arms and returned her hug.

"Continue your good work."

Greg knew she didn't mean his schoolwork only. _The work of a hero was never finished_.

.

_**Scene 9 – Punch me**_

.

"What are you doing her, Snake?" Weasel snarled. He looked at Greg like he was seeing something disgusting under his shoe.

Greg didn't need that right now. He had just been visiting Hagrid, trying to cheer him up in face of the upcoming trial. The poor bloke was really down these days, with Malfoy senior pressing for putting down "the murderous beast that nearly killed his innocent son", prats the both of them. _Like father like son_, Greg cursed silently, hoping that the phrase never proved true for him.

"Cat got your tongue?" Weasel continued, despite Pothead's weak attempt to calm him down and continue their way to Hagrid. The redhead had no idea how much restrain Greg needed to exert right now, not to punch him. Since Hermione's return into the trio's folds, there had been new quarrels every couple of days, mostly about Crooks and the damned rat, but also about her continued friendship with Greg and, surprisingly, Millie. He had heard Hermione defend him and his friends towards Weasel and Pothead, as they complained about their lax punishment. "They should have been suspended," Weasel demanded back then.

No, he really didn't like him and only turned away without a sharp reply because he respected Weasel attempt to help with the trial. It would be of no use, every Slytherin knew that, but it was honourable nonetheless; perhaps a first for the redhead.

.

Totally flabbergasted Greg stared at the weird scene in front of him. It was like something out of a fantasy book. The reason of his confusion was the group gathered in their study room. With students from all houses belonging to their group, they had decided to use this one near the library as kind of neutral ground. The Hufflepuffs were absent because of some house activity, and Marcus Belby had made himself rare since "The Battle". He promised to return after a couple of weeks when everybody had cooled down again. This left the Slytherins, who were struggling hard not to stare at the couch. Katie Bell and Vicky Frobisher were just trying to placate a well-known bushy-haired witch; it was however a surprisingly comforting Millie that Hermione was clinging to, crying her eyes out. Greg threw Vince a questioning look but only got a shrug in return.

_Weasel, it had to be Weasel, who else?_ Greg growled. And it had to be worse than before. However, he had to wait for some minutes, before Millie was able to leave Hermione, who was completely exhausted and sleeping on the couch now, in the care of her fellow lions. Her face was like thunder, her voice not any better.

"They deserted her again," she growled. "She wanted to protect Pothead and he betrayed her."

Slowly, interrupted by some curses from all three, she told the story about a Firebolt, how Weasel had been even more proud than Pothead about it; how Hermione had warned them it could be cursed – a real possibility with a mass-murderer after him – and how she informed McGonagall.

"Apparently McGonagall confiscated the broom, and now those dunderheads feel betrayed; as if she would do such a thing to hurt them."

"Blasted idiots," Greg cursed. Vince nodded his consent. For a while they stood together in silence, Millie getting more restless by the minute.

"What?" Greg wondered, noticing her looking like she expected something from him.

"What?" Millie growled. "You ask me 'what'? Stop looking so stupid and do something perhaps?"

"And what do you want me do?" Greg growled back a little agitated.

"I don't know," Millie snarked. "Perhaps go out there and teach them a lesson about how to treat a friend?"

Vince grinned broadly. Greg felt immensely better. His eyes widened shortly and he looked proudly on his girlfriend. She had come a long way from hating Hermione for being Greg's friend.

"Let's go," Vince urged, looking nearly ecstatic. Greg nodded and followed him.

"Greg?" Millie stopped him. "Make me proud."

_I will._

.

"Snakes everywhere today," Weasel sneered as soon as he noticed them. "It's like there is a nest somewhere around. Oh, there actually is," he mocked. "It's called Slytherin."

"Ron…" Harry tried to calm him, not liking the expression on the Slytherins' faces. He felt bad enough about the newest quarrel with Hermione to have any patience for this.

The Slytherins stopped nearly within arm's reach, Vince looking unhappy about the fact that Greg wanted to speak first. "You know, Potter, I really expected better from you." Greg pointed towards Weasel. "He was always an arse and nobody is surprised about his stupidity anymore…"

"Hey," Weasel complained only to get ignored completely, his face turning red as his hair was.

"After last year I thought you learned your lesson, Potter," Greg mused loudly, "learned how to treat a friend."

"She's no friend anymore," Weasel barked, understanding surprisingly fast what this was about. "She's a bloody traitor. She's not even a real Gryffindor. She's just a bag of shit."

The vein on Greg's temple, pulsing quite rapidly, should have been a warning, but Weasel continued with his rant, Potter's weak attempt to stop him not endearing him to Greg. Vince would put him down after the first sentence, should Greg ever curse about Millie like this. Greg struggled to stay calm, he really did. "She wanted to protect you. There is a mass-murderer out there to kill you, Potter, and you're still fooling around, not only endangering yourself but your friends as well. What if the broom had been cursed?"

"That's bullshit," Weasel screamed, interrupting Potter's response without remorse. "She's only jealous."

"Jealous?" Greg blinked. "Hermione is jealous? About what?"

"Because we can fly and she can't," Weasel answered haughtily, making Potter flinch. "Because we," he pointed towards Potter and him, "can talk Quidditch and she knows bull about it." He puffed his chest. "When Harry gets his Firebolt back, we'll squash you Slytherins."

"Didn't know you belonged to the team," Vince snickered. "Not that it would matter to us, with us three not on the team anymore," it was a secret to most others but Millie was a fabulous Chaser, not that she ever had a chance to join the team, being a girl and all.

"I'm the team's tactician," Weasel announced. Even Potter looked surprised by this news.

"And you?" Greg asked Potter. "Something to add?"

For a moment it looked like he wanted to say something. Potter glanced sideways to Weasel, who was still puffing his chest. Then he shook his head. Icy calmness washed over Greg's mind. He pointed towards Weasel.

"He's yours, Vince." Vince grinned and cracked his knuckles. _Christmas_.

Potter's eyes widened as he realized the very real danger, seconds before Weasel did. He drew his wand, far too late to interrupt Greg's charge. The boy simply ran him over. Kicking the wand away, he grabbed Potter by the collar and lifted him up. From the left, there were noises of a meaty fist connecting with Weasel's face. _One, one-two, one-two_ – Vince really enjoyed this, perhaps a tad too much. Greg was far calmer and didn't enjoy this as much as he imagined. A fist to Potter's stomach made the black-haired boy nearly vomit.

"She cried, Potter," Greg said calmly, his voice cold as ice. He bent him forward only to knee him. Now Potter really lost his lunch to the ground, the vomit besmirching Greg's robe and shoes. He didn't care.

"She's your friend, Potter, always was. And every time Weasel yells at her, you betray her." Potter weak defence got wiped away by a punch to his left eye. "She would die for you and you happily push her away like some trash." Greg pushed him away only to kick him in the groin, hard. Even if he wanted, Potter wasn't able to respond anymore. It wasn't a fight, really, more like a massacre.

"You don't deserve her friendship." Greg pondered about finishing him off with a last haymaker, but stopped himself. Potter didn't deserve it, neither Hermione's friendship nor his hate. He was unimportant. Looking around, he noticed Vince standing over Weasel. The redhead was on the ground as well, holding his broken nose. His face didn't look good. This time it wouldn't be only a detention, Greg assumed. It had been worth it.

"Let's go, Vince, we're finished here."

On their way back they passed Katie Bell who had followed them. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet were with her. Spinnet and Johnson didn't look happy and glared at the boys, but left the talking to Katie Bell. "I'll take care of them," she announced, nodding towards her housemates.

"They deserved it," was Greg's only explanation.

"I know," Katie calmly stated.

.

"How could you?" Hermione raged. Her reaction was exactly like he had expected. Friends were friends in her mind, irrespective of how they treated you.

"They deserved it," Greg repeated his earlier explanation. Hermione wanted none of it and continued to rage against him, until Vince stopped her.

"Weasel called you names, and Potter didn't stop him." That quenched her spark. Hermione turned very sad within moments, mostly because of Potter's betrayal.

"I'm sorry, Hermione." Greg told her. He really meant it. It was hard for her, certainly.

"It's okay," she sniffled.

"It's not," Millie said, putting an arm around her shoulders. "But it will be. Potter will learn."

.

_**Scene 10 – Surprise me**_

.

The following days had been awkward. Weasel and Pothead didn't speak with Hermione or Greg and his friends, but they didn't snitch either. Katie Bell had healed the boys at her best abilities and convinced Harry to let it rest. It was easy to see how much Greg's words had rattled the boy-wonder. He felt bad, emotionally more than physically. Had he really betrayed her? Had he made her cry? While Ron was and would ever be his best mate, she didn't deserve this. He hated how she went behind his back because of the broom. However, him being calmer now he understood that she had meant well. Didn't mean he would forgive her soon. Ron's words, however, had been far out of place. It made Harry wonder if Ron had ever been her friend in the first place. Grumbling every step, Ron had followed Harry's lead and stayed silent about the fight. One reason certainly had been his pride. Getting roughed up by Goyle and Crabbe was nothing to be proud about.

And so it happened that Hermione spent more time with Greg and his friends for a while. She even joined their study group from time to time. Hermione had been surprised to watch the interactions of the group members and who belonged to them. Greg was a natural leader, surprisingly: calm, a little on the slow side, but with a way to stop any discussion from exploding. The others trusted him, and there had been more than one Firsty speaking to him with adoration in his eyes. Draco Malfoy still behaved like the Prince of Slytherin, but she was certain about one thing: Greg and his friends had done more for the reputation and respect of Slytherin among the other houses than Malfoy ever could.

.

"Calm down," Millie sighed, putting a bookmark into the tome Hermione had been perusing before closing it against the wishes of the bushy-haired witch. "It's break time."

"I have to learn for the Charms test next week," Hermione wailed, futile trying to get her book back.

"You have to drink some tea and eat some scones." She put a small plate in front of the girl and poured her a cup of strong tea. "Eat! Drink!" She pushed the tome farther away and sat down to make sure the girl obeyed. Millie was even more stubborn than Hermione when the need arose.

"But…"

Millie stopped her with her slap on the hand that tried to fetch the book. "You look like shit cooked over. You have bags under your eyes, you lost weight and you're far too pale. You'll eat and drink now, and afterwards you'll join Greg and me for a walk around the lake."

"She will?" Greg wondered. Millie narrowed her eyes and he gulped.

Hermione calmed down a bit. She knew how she looked. It wasn't simply exam nerves that prompted her to learn even more than usually. It was her way to forget – to forget that Harry still avoided her. Ron's behaviour she had expected, but she missed Harry. From time to time she caught him watching her, hastily looking away when she noticed. He looked guilty but still unable to forgive her. If only Professor Flitwick already finished his exam of the broom.

Millie waited for Greg to depart to another table and Hermione to finish her scones, before she addressed something else: "you should stop lamenting after Weasel and Potter. You're behaving like they were your only friends. It hurts Greg. He would never admit it, but it does. He's your friend too."

"I know," Hermione sighed, feeling even worse.

Millie rolled her eyes. "I didn't tell you to make you feel bad. Try to relax a bit. Enjoy the time you have with us. Potter will come around. He's an arse and a Gryffindork, but he'll come around."

"You think so?"

Millie shrugged: "he isn't hopeless like Weasel." She spat the name, making her distaste very clear. Narrowing her eyes, she continued: "next time, you won't leave Greg behind, understand me? If Greg can be the great man and indulge your time with the boy-wonder, Potter can do the same. At least he can, if he really wants to be your friend."

Hermione thought about it and nodded slowly. "You're right. I'll try to do better next time."

"Make sure that you do."

.

_**Scene 11 – Scare me**_

.

"Professor Lupin is teaching him how to cast a Patronus."

Hermione was babbling happily on their way to the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match. Potter had made up with her, surprisingly two days before getting his broom back. Perhaps Millie had been right and Potter wasn't hopeless. Weasel had only turned around after the broom's return, but Hermione didn't care. She had her black-haired friend back. However, she kept her word as well: after a long-night discussion with Potter, he had accepted her wish to continue her friendship with Greg and Millie.

Greg on the other hand endured her rambling, simply happy that she was at his side and even sitting with the Claws, Luna Lovegood in their midst. While some of them were still angry at Greg and Vince, and others behaved around Luna like she had the plague, more and more of them came around, partially because of Greg's weird friendship with Penelope Clearwater. The headgirl was sitting not far away with her boyfriend Percy Weasley. Ron's brother hadn't been happy about his sibling's broken nose, but allowed Katie to handle the matter. It certainly helped calming him down that Ron's behaviour towards Hermione had been the reason behind the fight, the one Gryffindor he had always respected for her diligence and willingness to help with Ron's studies.

"Why?" Greg asked.

"He's in danger because of the dementors," Hermione explained.

"We all are," Greg responded with a frown. "He should teach the spell to all of us."

"It's a very difficult spell to master, I read," she shrugged.

"He could at least try," Greg grumbled. He didn't like the idea that Potter was thought to be better at learning spells than him – despite he knew it to be right.

"He could teach the older students," Millie interjected.

Hermione could agree to that. While Harry was a strong wizard for someone his age, there were certainly others who could learn the spell as well, students that were more inclined to help others – and present – on Hogsmeade visits. Cedric Diggory came to her mind or Penelope and Percy.

"I'll ask him," she promised.

.

"Has he calmed down already?" Hermione wondered, speaking of Greg and his bout of hilarity after the match. Malfoy, Nott and Blaise had tried to scare Harry, poorly disguised as a bunch of Dementors, only to get shocked by his astonishing strong Patronus, the majestic stag scattering them under the attendants' screams.

"Nope," Millie popped the 'P'. "He still gets a laughing fit every now and then."

"You have to admit, it was funny," Vince grinned.

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't hide her smile very well. She had been wondering if she should tell them about her latest quarrel with Ron. Seeing Greg and how happy he was right now, she decided against it and stayed silent – for the moment. The red-head had barely forgiven her "betrayal" about the broom, when he found some blood on his bed and Scabbers, his ugly and certainly mangy rat, missing.

"_Your cat killed him, that bloody beast," he had been screaming._

Harry however had reacted in a different way than before. He had actually tried to calm down his friend. Harry hadn't been very successful so far and Ron wasn't on speaking terms with her – again – but at least she still had her friend Harry this time. Perhaps he was really growing up.

.

_**Interlude 4 – Burn me**_

.

For the first time in months, Luna was a happy girl. Her first year had been awful. Her one and only friend, Ginny Weasley, had mostly ignored her, all oaths of everlasting friendship apparently long forgotten. The year had been a lonely one, filled with her attempts to hide from the bullying and teasing from the other girls, with long nights of crying and nightmares about her mother's death.

The summer with her father had been far too short; the last weeks she had been dreading her return. It had been even worse in the beginning. More and more girls had joined the bullying, the stealing of her things and the pranking. And then the one day that changed everything, the day Gregory Goyle stepped into her life. He was her knight in shining armour, the big protective brother she always wished for. It got only better because he brought a big sister into the deal. Millie Bulstrode could be quite frightening if angered. However, she had always been kind to Luna, allowed the blonde girl to see something in the Slytherin's eyes that was hidden from most others.

They had brought back her photo album. They had never insulted or hurt her. Instead they had stopped the other Claws from pranking her, threatened them into behaving or at least ignoring her. Penelope's friendship had helped as well, but Greg started it. She would never forget his kindness.

Luna skipped down the floor, humming some odd melody. Greg had even told her about his secret, his passion that had to stay hidden from his father as it was only "worthless Muggle scum" in his eyes. She liked his comics as well. They weren't too different from the stories her father told her, from the tales written in the Quibbler. Only it wasn't about mythical creatures but humans with fabulous powers. Greg was a fan of heroes like Hulk, Wolverine or Black Panther, heroic knights like he wanted to be. She preferred Zatanna. Long black hair, the longest legs a girl could wish for and the costume – Luna really liked that one. In one of Greg's comics had been a story with Zatanna being a main part of. He promised to get her more about her new idol. Nobody would dare to prank Zatanna, nobody would steal her things. She was strong, she was beautiful and she had friends.

Friends like Luna now had as well. Friends like Greg and Millie.

.

"You've forgotten your place, blood traitor."

The angry voice stopped Luna cold. For a moment a shiver of fear raced through her body, a fear nearly forgotten.

"What do you want, Warrington?" Wasn't that Greg's voice? Luna sneaked ahead and peeked around the corner. The situation wasn't looking good. Greg was surrounded by four other Slytherins, none of them belonging to his friends and all older than him. The leader was a fifth year who sneered at her friend.

"You're spending too much time with the Mudblood. And your little study group? Too many in there with the wrong house tie. You'll stop this right now, if you know what's good for you."

"And if I don't?" Greg responded, raising his chin in defiance.

"Then you're in a hell of pain," Warrington snickered, lifting his wand. Voice and face conveyed how much he would like to teach the boy a lesson. He obviously felt strong, with three thugs at his side.

"Go to hell," Greg barked. He wouldn't back down, not now, not ever.

The first attack came from the boy to the right. They had expected his reaction and were willing to strong-arm him into submission – after teaching him a painful and memorable lesson.

"Expelliarmus!" Greg lost his wand but not his strongest weapons: his fists. Instead of surrendering, he rushed the boy who, startled by the sudden change of pace, instinctively stepped back. Greg ignored a stinging hex by one of the other boys and barrelled into his first attacker, pushing him against the wall. He followed up with an accurate punch to the lowest rib, making the older boy gag.

"Depulso!" Before Greg was able to finish his opponent off, he got pushed away by a spell from a second attacker.

"Diffindo!" The cutting curse hit Greg's shoulder and a long, deep gash opened there, bleeding profusely.

"Stop that, you're hurting him." For a moment they actually stopped their attacks as Luna left her hiding.

"Luna, no; Go away," Greg urged. The blonde girl didn't obey but glared at Warrington, the far bigger boy towering over her.

"Hurting him is the general idea of this," he smirked cruelly.

"You're cowards," Luna felt something rising in her heart she didn't even know she could feel: pure hate. "Four against one isn't fair."

"We're Slytherins. We don't play fair, little girl." He advanced towards her to smack her down.

"Leave her alone." Greg growled and bull-rushed Warrington only to crush to the ground because of a tripping hex sent his way.

"And how do you intend to stop me," Warrington mocked. He stopped Greg's attempt at standing up with an Incarcerous spell. It was a weak spell from a weak caster, but strong enough to keep Greg down for the moment.

"Finite!" The older Slytherins were stunned to watch the small girl lift Warrington's spell. They didn't know Hermione and Penelope had started teaching her to give Luna an advantage should one of the older Claws return to bullying her. Hermione, who had used spell in her second year to protect Harry from a bludger, would have been proud watching her star pupil right now. Luna wasn't a Claw for nothing.

"How dare you," one of Warrington's companions fired off a stinging hex only to watch it miss the girl who gracefully stepped aside. Before he had a second chance, an enraged Greg barrelled into his side, shoved him into the wall and knocked him out cold as the stone proved to be stronger than his head.

For a while it looked good. A completely flabbergasted Warrington watched one of his thugs exchange blows with the smaller but tougher Greg Goyle, while the last bully tried – quite unsuccessfully – to land a hit on the blonde rubber ball called Luna Lovegood.

"Enough," Warrington suddenly roared, using a moment of clear view on Goyle to use a spell on him his father had – indirectly – taught him. "Caedo Disciplinae!" He had been the victim of that cruel spell often enough to know it by heart. And he was angry enough to use it with such power to make it really hurt. The magical whip hit its mark spot on. Greg screamed. For a couple of seconds, he was able to keep standing. But the pain continued and slowly he succumbed.

"No, Greg," Luna yelled, her Protego shielding her against another cutting curse. Her field of view narrowed as hot waves of concern and rage clashed with her last sliver of self-constraint. She had never willingly hurt someone. Her love for anything alive was far too strong and deep to feel anything else than repulsion even thinking about using a spell like the one Warrington had used. For a second this was forgotten however. She wanted to defend her first protector. She wanted to stop the fight. And a tiny part of her, a part that would cause her nightmares for weeks, wanted to hurt this cruel boy, to make him pay for what he'd done.

"Incendio Lunaris"

Hermione, without willing to explain why she wanted Luna to learn the spell, had taught her this variant of the more well-known Incendio spell. Like its namesake it caused its target to erupt into flames. Luna didn't know that the spell was especially hurtful to Werewolves, and she didn't care. She simply liked the name of the spell and the beautiful colour.

Warrington on the other hand didn't appreciate one bit the silvery flames dancing around his robe. He jumped around, looking funny, while struggling to extinguish the flames. His companions – at least the two that were still standing – watched him slightly confused, none of them remembering to use an Aguamenti to help him out of his misery. The poor boy had to wait for Greg Goyle to extinguish the flames, the other boys only now realizing that he had picked up his wand. The duo backed away. Greg's relentless physical attacks, something they weren't prepared to handle, and Luna's use of that unknown fire spell were enough to dampen their eagerness to "teach the traitor a lesson".

"Take him and leave," Greg gestured towards the unconscious boy. The boys hastily obeyed and minutes later only Luna and Greg were left in the corridor. No Prefect had interfered; no teacher arrived to stop them. Greg sneered inwardly. The Staff was worthless. The school needed someone else to protect the students. They needed a group of heroes.

"Wolverine appreciates the help," Greg said his thanks to the blonde girl with a deep bow.

"Zatanna is always willing to defend her friends," Luna curtsied with a dazzling smile.

Greg offered his arm and Luna accepted.

"That spell? Can you teach me?" Greg wondered. Luna happily agreed.

.

_**Scene 12 – Criticise me**_

.

"Do you think they're right?" Harry asked, his voice unusually subdued. He was sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione. Ron was absent like often these days, as he was still angry with Hermione. Barely convinced by Hagrid to forgive her "broom betrayal", the next quarrel arrived in their discussion about Harry's forbidden Hogsmeade visit.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "You really ask _me_ this? You know my opinion."

"Yeah, forgot about that," Harry grinned sheepishly. He hadn't listened to her and went to Hogsmeade, hiding under his cloak. It had been successful in the beginning. There had been a visit to Zonko, and he even had been able to pelt Malfoy with mud and scare him shitless with his "head without body" act. However, all good things ended badly for him somehow. Snape had been waiting for him, unamused by Harry's antics.

"We're trying to protect you and you have nothing better to do than risk your life. You're as arrogant as your father was."

Harry sighed at the memory. It only got worse from then on. In the end, after some heated words about James Potter, Snape had called Professor Lupin. Despite the mutual aversion, Lupin had sided with Snape in his critic about Harry's rash behaviour. He even nicked the map.

"It was rash. It was reckless." Harry pouted a little hearing Hermione's evaluation. For a moment she continued her harsh glare, before she allowed her expression to soften. "It's how you are. It's why we love you." His eyes prickled.

.

"It's not right how they treat him," Millie rumbled, watching the Gryffindors from afar. Neville was sitting all alone, with the other Gryffindors keeping their distance. It had been like this since Sirius Black's nightly surprise visit. According to rumours he had tried to murder Harry in his sleep, only messing up the beds. The mass-murderer had been able to breach the Gryff tower's security because he had stolen a note Neville used for passwords.

"He shouldn't have written down the passwords," Vince shrugged. In his opinion, Longbottom had to toughen up a little.

"That blasted painting changed passwords several times a day," Greg interjected. Even Hermione had been hard-pressed to stay up to date with the passwords. "At least they now switched back to the Fat Lady guarding Gryffindork tower."

For a while the trio watched Neville in silence. "He's sad," Millie noted. In the past weeks, she had suggested several times to spend more time with Neville even outside their study group. Vince had objected because it would cause Neville even more problems with the rest of his house, problems the soft Longbottom boy would be hard pressed to endure.

"What…?" Vince and Greg stared as Millie left her place, a strange determination on her face. Ignoring the looks from both Slytherin and Gryffindor table, she crossed the hall towards Neville, just as the owls with the evening post arrived. After a moment of confusion, Greg and Vince rushed to follow her, if only in case she needed help against aggressive Gryffindorks. Actually it was Vince who noticed the owl first, carrying a red-coloured letter towards Longbottom.

He tugged Greg's sleeve and gestured upwards: "Howler."

The other Gryffindors, already watching the advance of the trio of snakes warily, now concentrated on Longbottom and his reaction to the unwelcome message, some of them watching the event with glee. The boy paled as the owl landed in front of him and offered the letter. "From my Gran," he whispered to nobody especially. Neville gulped, hesitating to open the letter. He hesitated long enough for the howler to act on its own. It rose up, hovered above the table and opened.

"Neville Longbottom," a female voice started, without the well-known screech of the Molly Weasley howlers but loud enough to scare the boy shitless. "I was never so disappoint…"

The rest she wanted to say perished in a cloud of silvery flames. Greg, his wand in his hand, had an expression of disgust on his face. He hated howlers, had been a recipient of more than one of his own – always from his father as his mother preferred to yell straight into his face. Greg noticed neither the shock in Professor Lupin's face nor the smug smirk on Snape's. He only saw the relief on Neville's, the relief to have been spared the humility.

"Let's go, Neville," Millie commanded, her eyes telling Greg that he would get some serious snogging later.

"Yeah," even Vince agreed. "Grab your bag. I need your help with that assignment about Knotgrass and its applications."

Neville eagerly nodded and followed them – followed his new friends.

.

"Mister Goyle?" Greg turned around as he heard Professor McGonagall calling after him.

"Yes, Professor?" He showed his best poker face, already guessing what this was about.

"10 points from Slytherin for usage of a dangerous spell in the Great Hall."

Greg simply nodded, accepting the punishment. It had been worth it. Millie frowned, while Neville actually moved to defend his action only to be stopped by a curt gesture of Professor McGonagall. "I know, Mister Longbottom, I know." Her expression softening a little, she added: "five points each for reaching out in friendship to a member of a different house." The trio relaxed again.

"And Mister Goyle? 10 points for that astonishing piece of spell work. It is a highly unusual spell. I was surprised to watch you cast it."

"Miss Lovegood taught me." Unlike Luna he knew exactly why the spell could come in handy someday.

"She taught you well," Professor McGonagall commented. "Perhaps 10 points to Ravenclaw would be in order as well."

"I don't think Ravenclaw deserves to benefit from Miss Lovegood's deeds," Greg stated without blinking. "At least not now, perhaps later."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes and nodded slowly. There had been rumours; rumours about bullying and Snakes befriending a Claw, about fights in the corridors with no teacher interfering.

"Yes, perhaps later."

.

_**Scene 13 – Brew me**_

.

"Thank you for allowing me to do this, Professor."

Hogwarts Castle was empty these days. Most of the students had departed. Only a handful of students stayed over the break, Vince and Greg belonging to them. They would only leave the school via Floo for a couple of days to celebrate Christmas with their families, while they intended to use the rest of the break for learning and training. Most mornings, Greg would assist Hagrid with his day-to-day duties, getting to know the giant man better with every hour working together, chatting amicably and tending the animals without Malfoy and his bunch of bastards commenting everything and spoiling his good mood.

The afternoon was set aside for Transfiguration. It was the one weak subject left, and he had promised his mother to get better at it. Professor McGonagall, perhaps because he had been defending one of her cubs, had agreed to tutor him, sacrificing a part of her precious spare time. It was hard work for Greg, but he was getting better slowly, his pure determination and diligence partially balancing his lack of talent. He would never become a great master of this art, but at least he wouldn't be tail light of the class anymore.

The evening however was the time of the day he liked the most. Others would have hated having to prepare potion ingredients, but he enjoyed this calm and steady work. It soothed him and helped him relax. Unbeknownst to him, Severus Snape accepted his help so eagerly – despite the mediocre result of Greg's work – because it helped the boy with his meditation practice and benefitted his growing Occlumency skills.

"When you're ready with the spider eggs, prepare everything for a cauldron of blood replenishing potion. Instructions are over there."

The order made Greg's eyes light up. He had started to work on a couple of easier healing potions, and to his endless pride Professor Snape hadn't only stopped to vanish them afterwards, but delivered them to Madam Pomfrey for real usage. Others had found their way into the hands of some Quidditch team members – those members at least that still were on speaking terms with him like Markus Flint.

"Thank you for your trust, Professor."

"Don't disappoint me," Professor Snape responded calmly. After a moment of silence, he continued. "Your skill has noticeably improved this term."

Greg gulped, his cheeks blushing from the unusual praise. "Miss Clearwater has been so kind to teach me now and then." He glanced towards the Professor's reaction. Snape paused for a second before he continued his work. "She' very good at that teaching stuff, I think."

Snape lifted a single eyebrow and showed a sardonic smile: "better than me?"

Greg gulped again. For a moment, he concentrated on suppressing his trembling. "In a way, yes. She's more patient with dunderheads like me." _Not that this would be difficult from the start_, Greg added silently.

Surprisingly, Professor Snape didn't comment his statement. After a while, Greg accepted his silence for agreement, not that he ever expected his dour potion professor to admit any faults on his side. "She's a Muggleborn."

Snape narrowed his eyes and wondered: "I hadn't expected this to matter to you."

"It doesn't," Greg denied. "But it will be difficult for her to fulfil her dream later on." Greg looked down, glancing towards Professor Snape. "She told me she wants to become a potion mistress herself."

"And you're telling me this because…?" His voice didn't betray any emotion. Snape was actually quite surprised to hear about this. Penelope Clearwater had always been an exceptional student, her talent for potions exceeding that of most other students he ever taught since becoming teacher at Hogwarts. However, she had never addressed the matter with him. He was a little hurt, actually, and wondered if his behaviour stopped her from asking for his support.

"I'm certain credentials from the youngest potion master of the century would go a long way in helping her getting an apprenticeship."

Severus Snape rolled his eyes. Goyle obviously spent too many hours with Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs if he thought praising him in such a blatant way would help his matter. "Or I simply could offer her an apprenticeship under my tutelage, wouldn't that be even more simple?" He asked.

His sarcasm went unnoticed and Greg beamed. "You would do that? I'm sure you wouldn't regret it. She could teach the first and second years. But you still have to teach the very first lesson. I really liked that speech of yours, Professor. Did you know Hermione – I mean Ms. Granger – she still knows your speech word by word."

Severus felt a headache coming. Goyle was like a waterfall right now and he regretted allowing him to open his mouth at all. However, a tiny part of his dark heart admitted that he felt touched about Goyle and Granger liking his starting speech. It was an even bigger surprise after how he had treated the girl since the first day. One of the few benefits of the Goyle-Granger friendship had certainly been the boy's calming influence on the girl's compulsive hand-waving and eagerness to answer each and every question; that and her newfound respect about squandering his time, shown by diminishing the extent of her assignments.

"She wrote me a thank you letter," he stated calmly, surprising himself as he hadn't intended to say this aloud. Greg stared at him in confusion. "For brewing the mandrake potion," Snape explained.

Greg smiled. "Yeah, that's the way she is. She respects you highly despite…" His eyes widened and he stopped his words from digging an even deeper hole. Hastily he turned towards his preparations again and stayed silent for some minutes before he dared to raise his voice again. "You cured her from that potion accident last year as well, didn't you, Professor?"

"I did. I admit I was surprised your friendship survived her betrayal back then." It had been more surprising than the feat itself – a second year brewing a NEWT potion without fault was no small deed, the whole matter with the cat hair left aside.

Greg shrugged. "It was stupid to believe Draco could ever be the hair of Slytherin, but she had to make certain, if only to stop Pothead and Weasel from fooling around even more." Remembering the day after, he added with a soft smile: "she apologized afterwards and I accepted. It's what real friends do if the apology is genuine."

Greg didn't notice how Severus Snape stiffened. _Accept a genuine apology, it's what friends do_. Lily Evans hadn't reacted like that, hadn't accepted his apology. "Would she accept your apology even after calling her a Mudblood?" He wondered, inwardly facepalming about his own eagerness to ask the question.

The boy paused for a moment and pondered the question. Slowly he nodded. "She would hex me till Sunday, but she would accept the apology."

"It's the way Miss Granger is," Professor Snape agreed. _But not the way Lily was_.

"Yeah," Greg smiled broadly. "It's the way she is."

.

"Professor?"

Severus rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time this evening. "I wonder if your lips ever stay still."

"One last question, Sir." Greg promised.

"If only," Severus sighed, but gestured: "ask away."

"The Polyjuice Potion is not meant to transform a human into an animal."

"Is this a statement or your question?"

"A statement," Greg responded calmly.

"And your question?"

"Are there other potions? Potions that allow a human to transform into an animal without Animagus training? Or…" he hesitated for a second too long to stay inconspicuous.

"Or?"

"Are there potions to transform an animal into another kind of animal?" Greg had a plan, but he needed help and he knew it. He felt Professor Snape's eyes resting on him. It was like his stare drilled a hole into Greg's skull, and he wondered if his professor guessed the intent of the question.

"There are such potions," Snape answered after a long silence. "They would be difficult to brew and dangerous in case of failure.

"But not above the skill of say … Miss Clearwater?" He dared to asked.

"Miss Clearwater's skill would be acceptable." Professor Snape went to retrieve a booklet and offered it to Greg Goyle. Gratefully he accepted it. "And now leave; I've enough of your endless blathering for today. Don't return before Monday."

Goyle's broad smile made him ill. Severus Snape hated happy students, even from his own house. Hopefully he wouldn't regret this.

.

_**Scene 14 – Punch me**_

.

"What were you doing just now?" Millie wondered as the Slytherin trio was on their way to meet Hermione. The new term had started two weeks ago but Greg continued to use some of his spare time to learn more about potions. He even met Penelope Clearwater twice, and Millie wondered if that had something to do with her boyfriend nicking a couple of feathers from Buckbeak. With him assisting Hagrid nowadays, it hadn't been difficult for him to gather some lost feathers from the place where the "dangerous beast" had been chained up for months. However, this afternoon he had been occupied with something different. He had worked on his "very original Wolverine claws", oiling and sharpening them until they were real weapons, while perusing a couple of Muggle books containing some really weird sketches.

"You remember my stories about batman?" Millie nodded. While those superheroes didn't fascinate her as much as they did Greg, she had realized long ago how important those Muggle comics – completely disgusting and forbidden by pureblood standards – were for the boy. In a way, they had been responsible for the changes Greg had undergone over the last two years, changes she liked very much.

"He doesn't have any natural superpowers and he rarely uses weapons. He can't count on regeneration like Wolverine or use such claws," Greg explained.

"So how does he win his fights? He's a very successful criminal fighter, you told me." For a moment Millie got carried away, forgetting that the man wasn't for real. Listening to Greg, he actually could live somewhere in America. Not that she knew enough about American cities to differentiate between real ones like New York or imagined ones like Gotham City. Batman's hometown certainly sounded dark enough to be for real.

"Gadgets," Vince responded, surprising them with his hidden knowledge. Noticing their reaction, he rolled his eyes. "I listen too."

Greg slapped his back, grinning wildly. "You're right, mate. He's using gadgets – things similar to the Twins' dung bombs. He has all kind of mini-grenades and boomerangs with special effects like choking gas or smoke."

"And you want to craft something similar?"

"In a way, yes." Greg sighed and rubbed his neck. "I wanted to get something to use one my claws." He glanced around to make sure there were no listeners, before he continued. "Something effective against Werewolves," he nearly whispered.

Millie's eyes widened. "But nothing lethal?" There was clear concern in her voice.

"Naturally not," Greg responded with slight indignation. "Something to chase him off in case of need." He hadn't to explain who was meant with "Him". He had told both friends about Professor Lupin's furry little problem weeks ago under the premise not to spill the secret to others. Millie breathed a sigh of relief. While she, like Greg, hadn't forgotten that horrible Boggart lesson, she liked the teacher well enough. Added to this her newfound concern for Werewolf-rights – thanks to long hours spent talking with Hermione – and her caring reaction had been predictable.

"And how far did you get?"

Greg sighed. "It's not going well. I only found a sticky paste containing silver powder." He raised his hand to stop Millie's complain. "I know, that would really hurt him, perhaps even leave scars. So I only have it for a real emergency while I'm looking for something better."

"Why use such a thing anyway?" Vince wondered. "You already have that silver flame thingy."

"Yeah," Greg looked unhappy. "But I can only use it if I'm relaxed. I'm not certain I could successfully cast it if under stress." He glanced towards Millie and both friends understood. A werewolf attacking Millie would change everything. "And it could injure him gravely as well with the flames."

They left the castle and followed the path towards Hagrid's hut where they intended to meet Hermione, walking in silence for a while until Millie suddenly exclaimed: "how about Wolfsbane? I mean, Werewolves hate Wolfsbane, but it doesn't hurt them the same way silver does, else Professor Snape wouldn't use it in that potion he's brewing, right?"

Greg wasn't too certain about Professor Snape not using something dangerous regarding the despised DADA teacher, but perhaps she was onto something there. He stopped and pondered the idea for a while, his friends watching him expectantly, before he grinned madly. "You're brilliant."

Millie liked the praise – she wasn't called brilliant all too often. The following snog she liked even more, despite the gagging noises from Vince.

.

"What's going on there?" Vince asked, gestured towards the quarrel ahead. Hermione was standing there, yelling at Malfoy and the Nott cousins. The blond ponce was smirking and obviously insulting their friend right now, making the spirited girl's blood boil.

As the trio hurried onward, the wind carried some of the words spoken to them. "Beast … Hagrid … stupid oaf…"

_That's it_, Greg sighed and sped up. Insulting Hermione was one thing, but insulting Hagrid around the girl was something completely different. He noticed how her stance changed, saw the signs of the incoming punch long before her fist landed on the git's nose with a crunching sound. _It was a good punch_, Greg grinned. She had actually remembered how to execute the strike without injuring her hand in the process. The training sessions with Millie obviously bore fruit. Not that she ever would be able to win a fight against his terrific girlfriend. It was enough, however, to put the Malfoy heir down in one swing.

"No you won't," Millie growled. She had reached the fight and prevented Theo Nott from cursing Hermione's back by grabbing his wand arm. A second later, her meaty fist met his jaw. Greg cheered at the sight, while Vince glared at the younger Nott. The boy was clever enough not to try anything.

"Traitors," Malfoy cursed, the word not very biting with him still on the ground and his nose bloodying his robes.

"Shut up and fuck off," Millie commanded, not very ladylike. She stepped towards him in a threatening way and Malfoy's cowardly nature kicked in. Hastily he departed, his attempts at appearing haughty and uncaring looking laughable.

"Thank you," Hermione said, looking a little unhappy about losing her temper.

Millie shrugged. "That's what friends are for."

"A friend," Vince grumbled, "would have allowed me to throw a punch as well. This was over far too soon."

Even Hermione grinned at that comment. "I'm certain there will be other opportunities."

"Yeah," Greg agreed, mock punching his friend's arm. "Malfoy isn't capable of learning how to keep his mouth shut. You only have to wait for the next time he's spilling shit."

Vince pout changed into a grin. He liked the thought.

.

_**A/N**_

_See you on Saturday with the conclusion of this story._


	5. Chapter 5 Claws of Destiny - Part Three

_**A/N**_

_**Here is the end of Greg's year 3 adventures.**_

_**.**_

_**Scene 15 – Calm me**_

.

The mood in the Slytherin common hadn't been good for a couple of days. In the Quidditch finals of the year, Potter had been able to delay Malfoy's attempt at catching the golden snitch long enough for the awesome trio of Gryffindor chasers to gather all the points needed. With Potter beating Malfoy to the snitch the victory had been decisive. Even Greg wasn't happy about his house losing to the lions, Malfoy's long face not enough to quell his house pride.

Since then, everybody had prepared for the exams. Greg and his friends met every single day, the group following a stringent learning schedule – coloured and all. Greg was quite certain he would be able to at least repeat the good result from last year, hopefully even improve here and there. He had continued to meet Penelope for potions remedy and Professor McGonagall for Transfiguration, even if rarer nowadays. _Penelope_ – she had to prepare for her NEWTs like her boyfriend Percy Weasley as well. Nonetheless, she had been willing to help Greg with the pair of potions he found in Snape's book. Everything was prepared, even the ramshackle cabin he found in the forbidden forest – in the less dangerous part of it naturally, not the Acromantula infested one – had been repaired by Vince and him with some spare parts provided by a close-mouthed Argus Filch. Now he only had to wait for the right moment. Hopefully he didn't mess it up.

"What are you doing here, Pothead?"

Greg's head shot up as he heard Malfoy's snarling from the open door. _What is Potter doing here_? He wondered as well, as he rushed to the door before the situation went out of hand. He hadn't to look back to know Vince and Millie were following him just as fast.

"Got lost?" Theo Nott asked with enough vitriol in his voice to burn through wood.

"Actually, I'm looking for Goyle," Potter's response surprised them all. _He has balls, I give him that_, Greg mused. _No wonder he's a Gryff_. Without giving Malfoy or Nott a chance to reply – the younger Nott had avoided the older boys since the last quarrel and lived a clever wait and see outlook – Greg pushed through.

"Hi Potter," he greeted the black-haired boy, who looked quite relieved. "How's it doing?" He tried to sound carefree, leaving the glaring to Millie and Vince. Nott gulped as he noticed Millie's clenched fist and her grim smile.

"He shouldn't be here," Malfoy weakly attempted to salvage his pride.

Greg lifted a single eyebrow. "The same could be said about you, Malfoy." He ignored the blond ponce and gestured Potter to follow him towards the neutral study room. "What's going on, Potter?" He asked, dreading that this was about Hermione.

How right he was.

.

_I need your help_, Potter had told him. _She's losing her head. It's not even OWL but she's in complete panic mode_.

Potter didn't know, but he had earned himself quite some respect from Greg and his friends by doing this: Caring enough about Hermione to admit that he needed their help and to forget about house rivalry and everything, that was a clear sign of him being a better friend than Greg had often assumed. _Or he is learning from past errors_, Greg mused. With Penelope nowhere to see, Greg had acquired Luna's help to distract Madam Pince. He felt a little bad, watching the librarian's eyes glazing over as Luna spoke about her rampant ideas how to modernize the library. "You don't have any scientific books about the habitat and lifestyle of Snorkacks," actually was one of her mellower statements.

Knowing exactly where to find their friend, Greg and Millie crossed the library like battleships parting the waves. Hermione had barely time to look up and show confusion before Millie's "Silencio!" hit her. "This is an intervention," Greg proclaimed. Hermione fumed and fought like a wildcat, but her resistance was futile. She found herself shouldered by Greg on his way out while Millie gathered her books. _Now I only have to survive long enough for her to calm down again_, Greg thought, only now realizing the little hitch of his plan.

.

"I can't believe it." Hermione was spitting fire like she hadn't done since the day she left Trelawney's lessons months ago. Not even Malfoy had gotten her this angry.

Greg and his friends remembered the day quite well. There had been a heated exchange, Hermione scolding the fraud for foreseeing Harry's death every other hour and Trelawney's not very polite but nonetheless correct statement about Hermione lacking the inner eye. More than once Greg had been amused about Hermione's face when the divination professor happily commented the newest scam Greg and his friends produced. He liked those hours mostly. They were like an endless stand-up comedy show. Hermione had left the class back then, grumbling something about "having better things to do with her time". Greg followed her to calm her down. His parting grumbled words – "I'll be back" – had the present Muggleborns blinking in surprise and the rest staring in confusion.

"Why did you do this?" Hermione growled, trying to get her books back, a futile attempt with Millie protecting the bag with her broad chest.

"Potter told us about your panic mode," Greg calmly exclaimed.

"Traitor," Hermione hissed.

"No, he's trying to be a friend," Greg shook his head. That calmed her down a bit. "He is, isn't he?" She sighed deeply.

"And there I thought I could have another go at him and Weasel one day," Vince pouted, earning him glares from everybody else.

"You have to calm down," Millie announced to disperse the tension.

"But…"

"No buts," Greg rumbled, his fist loudly hitting the table and making everybody jump. "Calm down, this tension isn't doing you any good." He procured a list from his pocket. "This is your new schedule for the next couple of weeks."

Hermione glared but accepted the list. It was obviously Millie's handwriting. "There aren't enough hours for learning everything I need to know," she whined. "And what is this about?" Each day at least one hour had been marked with some symbol and a letter – V, M or G. Two of them had even been crossed out and replaced by an L.

"A couple of new subjects," Millie explained. "Two afternoons a week you'll lead remedy lessons in our study group." Hermione pouted but stayed quiet for now. She actually liked the idea. It would help her as well. "Then there are jogging sessions around the lake with Vince." Millie looked thoughtful for a moment and crossed out a V aside a water symbol. "Vince, I told you the bathing hours are with me not you." Vince pouted and Greg rolled his eyes. The idea made Hermione blush a little but at least it bettered her mood.

"What about the club symbol?" Hermione wondered.

"Beater lessons with Greg," Millie grinned.

"Great for stress relief," Vince quipped.

Hermione shook her head but accepted it for now. "And the L?" She already had a horrible suspicion.

"Luna offered to start every Sunday morning with a little excursion," Greg continued. "Looking for some creature or other, she said."

"I don't have time for such…" She wanted to say nonsense but Millie's glare stopped her. The big girl had gotten very protective of the tiny Claw.

"You will," Greg grumbled. "Else we convince Colin to visit you with his camera every time you'll try to hide behind your books." Hermione paled. Like herself, Colin had been more than thankful for Greg's reading sessions. Without them, the younger Gryff had told her, he certainly would have gone mad while being petrified. She had no doubt about Greg being able to get his assistance with this evil plan of his.

"I really appreciate this, Greg, I do," Hermione whined a little. "But if I follow this schedule, there isn't enough time left for real learning."

Greg put his hands to the left and right of her face, lifted her face to look into her eyes and said in a surprisingly earnest way: "Hermione, you and I, we both know you learned everything needed for this exam three months ago at least. This is only about repetition, feeling self-secure and relax a little. If you continue the way you behaved last month, you're going mad before the exam starts. We're your friends. Hell, even Potter is your friend and realised this can't continue. Trust us in this. Alright?"

Hermione sighed deeply. "Alright." _At least I have the night for_…

"By the way," Millie said as her parting words. "Parvati promised to store away your books and put out the light at 11 PM."

_There went that hope as well._

.

_**Scene 16 – kill me**_

.

"_It will happen tonight. The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight, the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. _

"_The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was._

"_Tonight, before midnight, the servant will set out to rejoin his master."_

_Sybill Trelawney (PoA)_

.

It was the last day of the exams. The not-so-golden trio of friends was on its way to Hagrid's hut to offer their moral support, to help their big soft-hearted friend coping with the undeserved but imminent death of a proud and majestic beast. Hermione really hated Malfoy right now, father and son equally. She hated Draco Malfoy for milking a scratch he got after prodding and taunting Buckbeak. She hated Lucius Malfoy for keeping up with his son's silly wishes, mostly to hurt Hagrid and to spite Headmaster Dumbledore.

Right now Minister Fudge and his lackeys would arrive at the Headmaster's office, officially to finalize the verdict. They already made the decision months ago and all talk about allowing an appeal was humbug only. Hermione had seen the brutal face of McNair, the executioner wearing a vicious axe in one hand and an ecstatic grin on his lips as he followed Fudge on his walk of doom.

The sole benefit of this painful day was her reunion with her friends. For once Ron kept his mouth shut while still keeping Harry between him and Hermione. The girl sighed deeply. It had been difficult for Harry. He had really tried to behave like a true friend this time, spending time with her and even visiting Greg's study group a couple of times. Surprisingly, he got along smashingly with Luna. Their talks about some of her creatures had been hilarious.

Hermione had been happy to see him relaxed for once. It had only lasted for so long. She glanced towards her friend. Harry was deep in thoughts, certainly brooding about Professor Trelawney's latest shenanigan. She wasn't certain what to think about the newest prophecy of the woman she regarded a fraud. It sounded serious – too serious to be rejected out of hand without consideration. Did she believe it? Anyhow it troubled her. At least it distracted her from pondering about her boggart experience at the DADA exam.

Ron had joked about it certainly being Professor McGonagall telling Hermione she messed up her latest assignment. If only. Luckily only Professor Lupin realized the full impact of her deepest fear: Harry blackmailing her to choose between her friendship to him and Greg. Hermione breathed deeply. Last year it really could have happened. Nowadays, Harry had changed, had learned and grown up. Learning through pain, knocking some sense into someone – apparently it had helped.

_Hopefully it would last._

.

"They're here," Millie announced. Greg nodded, trusting her network without a doubt. With a mix of chocolate bribery, offering of tuition and menacing glares, Millie had been able to convince a couple of Hufflepuff Firsties to keep watch over the coming and goings. Barely ten minutes after Minister Fudge's entourage entered the grounds, had Millie been informed about it.

"Let's go."

.

"It's Scabbers."

For a moment, Buckbeak's dire fate was forgotten, as Ron lifted his beloved rat from the place it had been hiding. Scabbers looked even mangier than before his vanishing act. How it had gotten into Hagrid's hut they would never know. At least, the dirty animal was back, Ron was happy and perhaps he would even remember to apologize for his past behaviour. Not that it really mattered to her anymore. She had learned from Greg and Millie about real friendship, and surprisingly from Vince as well. Vince didn't share Greg's opinions about everything. He wasn't happy about all things Greg did. However, he would never betray their friendship, would never go astray and leave him behind. Perhaps he would attempt to knock some sense into Greg's face, but always stay at his side. Harry had learned this as well, and if Ron didn't – it would be his loss.

"Ouch!"

"What?" Harry wondered. Ron looked around and rubbed his head.

"Something … ouch!" He jumped anew. This time Hermione noticed the pebble.

"Something hit me … twice," Ron whined. Hermione glanced out of the window, searching for the culprit. She had inkling about his – or her – identity. This had Millie's thumbprint all over it. The big girl hated Ron, her throwing arm was strong and her aim deadly. But why…

"Fudge," she whisper-yelled. "We have to go."

They hurried through the back door. Only moments later, there was knocking on the front door. They waited for Fudge and his lackeys to enter the hood before they departed. Hermione glanced towards Buckbeak for a last time. She only wished she could rescue him, but it would only cause Hagrid trouble. No, the majestic creature would die today – and she would make Malfoy pay for it.

"You don't know real pain," she mumbled. "But you'll learn." The thought gave her some relief but it certainly didn't stop the tears.

.

"Here we go!"

With halted breath the Slytherin trio had waited for the Gryffindors to depart. Greg had wanted to tell Hermione about his plan, but Millie had stopped him from doing so.

"_She can't lie," Millie had explained. "She can't act the troubled girl convincingly. They have to believe she knows nothing about the matter, should something go wrong. And she has to mourn convincingly else they'll knew something is not as it should be."_

He had followed her lead, but it broke his heart to see Hermione crying now. The Gryffs were barely out of sight as the Slytherin friends hurried towards Buckbeak. Greg instantly went to calm down his feathery friend while Vince started to loosen the ropes.

"I have some treats for you," Greg cooed, offering a tasty dead weasel to Buckbeak. The Hippogriff gulped it down enthusiastically and followed Greg towards the forest, trusting the boy after many hours of Greg taking care of him. They had to act fast, the trio knew. A minute later – there was still loud talking in Hagrid's hut with Headmaster Dumbledore trying to calm down the agitated gamekeeper, and Malfoy senior urging the Minister to end "this silly farce" – Greg and Buckbeak reached the forest and vanished between the trees.

_With phase one finished, it was time to start phase two. _

.

"He is gone," Hermione sniffed.

In the distance, hidden by the trees, the sound of a heavy axe hitting its mark had been unmistakably. Harry put an arm around her shoulders and Ron glared at some invisible foe in helpless rage. They had spent many hours helping Hagrid with preparing Buckbeak's defence. In the end, it had been for naught.

.

"Come, Hagrid, let's have some tea."

Dumbledore led his big friend back into the hut, mostly to stop him from slogging an awfully proud looking and smirking Malfoy senior. It certainly didn't help Hagrid's mood to watch McNair cutting off Buckbeak's wings and claws. They were the payment for his blood work and would find their way into some apothecary's shelves or onto some wall as a horrible trophy. _Miserable wretch_, Dumbledore mused. The headmaster frowned. There had been something odd about Buckbeak.

"He's gone," Hagrid's broad shoulders trembled. Dumbledore pushed the thought away. Thinking was later, now he had to take care of his old friend.

.

"Everything went according to our plan?" Greg asked as his friends arrived at the hidden hut.

Vince nodded with a broad grin and Millie responded: "it went off without a hitch." She stroke Buckbeak's feathers. "They think you're dead, my friend."

"Do you hear it," Greg asked the Hippogriff. "We really pulled it off. You're safe now."

.

_**Scene 17 – rat on me**_

.

"You know, he trusted your judgement, Miss Granger." Snape's eyes never wavered from the pathetic sight of one Sirius Black and his friend Remus Lupin. "Because of you, he decided to give the beast a chance. He even urged me to do the same, to give him a second chance."

Remus Lupin was confused. Sirius stared hateful at the nemesis of his youth. Only Harry had a guess whom Professor Snape was talking about – Greg. Hermione looked ashamed, but still determined to trust Professor Lupin one last time. "Please, sir, he isn't a traitor."

"But he is," Snape hissed. "And he'll pay for it. And the mutt – there is a Dementor waiting for you, Black. And he is sooo hungry." He cackled – cackled until the joined Expelliarmus spells of Harry and Hermione took him by surprise, disarmed him and threw him back like a rag doll. His head hit a wall and he lost consciousness. Hermione would never forget that look of betrayal.

"Show me," Harry hissed towards Sirius Black. "Show me that your story was the truth."

.

"He'll be safe in the hut for a while." Greg closed the latch of the hut's door. "In a couple of days, when everything calmed down, I'll contact a friend of Hagrid. He's working in a magical creature reserve down in Wales."

"You think he'll be happy there?" Millie wondered.

"Sure," Greg nodded.

While Sirius and Remus hit their former friend Pettigrew with a spell, forced him to transform back into human form and explained what really had happened on that tragic Halloween night, the Slytherin trio crossed the grounds to get back into the castle without getting seen. Ron gagged at the thought of sharing his bed with this man for years, as Millie played with the empty vial in her pocket. After Greg rescued the real Buckbeak, she had used the animal-to-animal potion, brewed by Penelope Clearwater as a thank you for Greg, to transform a rooster into a believable Hippogriff. Believable at least long enough to get killed itself by McNair.

For a moment, she wondered if the "Hippogriff" would turn back into a rooster after a while, or what would happen if someone really used its claws and feathers as ingredients. Whatever – it would be too late to catch Buckbeak. Nobody would suspect them: the dumb snake trio. Nor would they suspect Professor Snape. His friendship with the Malfoys – he even was Draco's godfather – was well-known. No, if they really wanted a suspect, it would be Headmaster Dumbledore. He had the skill and the motive. Millie smirked. And he certainly deserved a little trouble for his past behaviour.

.

"Look!" Vince stopped his friends and pointed towards the Whomping Willow. Something weird was happening there. A couple of people, both adults and students, climbed out of a hole under its roots.

"Hermione?" Greg recognized his friend. Hermione looked up like she heard him, but for now they were hidden between the trees.

Millie however recognized someone else – and realized a danger. "Greg," she whispered urgently. "That's Professor Lupin."

"Oh, yeah, you're right," Greg nodded, not understanding what troubled his girlfriend.

"We have a night of full moon."

Greg's eyes widened and he looked up to the sky. An iron fist clenched his heart as he saw a couple of clouds, cloaking the moon for now. Without thinking he left their hiding place and raced towards his friends, yelling to get their attention. Hermione detected him immediately, but was too far away to understand him.

"Greg?" She wondered. Black was dragging Snape out of the hole without much care, while Harry tended for Ron's broken leg. It was Remus' job to watch Pettigrew, the bound traitor, only he had a different and very urgent matter at hand.

"Harry, the moon is coming out. And I've forgotten to take my potion. RUN!"

.

"I'll take care of them," Millie said decidedly. She pushed Greg in the direction Hermione and Harry had vanished. "Rescue them." Greg hesitated. Black had been able to distract the furious Werewolf. Wolf and dog had chased off, allowing Pettigrew to turn into a rat again and vanish before the Gryffindors had a chance to react. Snape was still unconscious and Ron unable to walk without help. Greg feared for Hermione's life, but didn't want to leave Millie. "GO!" The girl yelled and pushed him again.

"Guard her with your life," Greg urgently whispered to his friend. Vince nodded, jaws clenched with determination. "Love you," Greg whispered, loud enough for Millie to hear it, before he chased after the four Gryffindors. Millie blushed. Vince smirked, earning him a punch to the shoulder.

"Don't say a word," Millie growled. Vince only made a zipping motion across his mouth. Time to get Professor Snape back on his feet.

.

"Where are you?" Greg whispered. He was near panic with no sign of his friend so far. He had no idea about the fight between dog and wolf taking place right now. He heard a second wolf yowl in the distance – this one sounded a little wrong as it was emitted by Hermione, meant to distract the werewolf. Greg changed directions.

For a second he remembered the potion vial in his pocket, the second potion brewed by the clever Penelope Clearwater following a quite different receipt from that ominous book given to him by the ever mysterious Severus Snape. After adding an animal part to it, the potion would turn him into an animal of his choosing. Greg intended to use it for a memorable hour of running around as a tiger or something similar special and impressive. Perhaps the potion even worked with a bit of tooth or bone from a sabretooth tiger. Josh had told him about the creature after seeing a skeleton of it in a museum of natural history, back in New York. He could really use something like that right now. Too bad he lacked any tiger hair. No, he had to stay human today.

"Hang in there!" He mumbled, his feet tripping over some root as he rushed through the forest. "Where are the Centaurs when you need them?" He really would love to see one of those bow-slingers right now, chasing of the wolf with a well-placed arrow or a kick of his hooves. Too bad, there were none around.

Greg's heart stayed for a beat or two as he entered the little clearing. Black was on the ground, back to human form and unconscious. Harry and Hermione tried to chase off the wolf, but he was far too angry to leave. He snarled at the kids and snapped in Hermione's direction.

"Uaarrrgggh!"

Mimicking Harry's deed from first year, Greg raced towards the Werewolf and jumped on his back. His right Wolverine claws were extended and he pushed them down into the wolf's shoulder. The Werewolf shuddered as the Wolfsbane did its work. He rocked back and forth, trying to get lost of his attacker. After seconds only, seconds that felt like minutes of bull-riding for Greg, the boy lost his grip and smashed onto the soft ground.

"GREG!"

Hermione's warning urged him to roll away, barely avoiding the wolf's claws. Greg scrambled backwards as the Wolf followed him, slightly slowed by the Wolfsbane.

"Incendio Lunaris!" Hermione nearly wept as she had to use the spell on the beloved teacher, but unlike Harry's stunner her spell actually drove the Werewolf off for a moment – long enough for Greg to jump up, extend his left claw as well and slash at the wolf's thigh. Three long gashes were the result, heavily bleeding as the silver paste didn't allow his regeneration powers to work. The Werewolf screamed in pain but at least its fighting spirit was broken now. It whirled around and hurried away, as fast as possible with the injured leg.

Greg's legs relented and he sank to the floor, utterly exhausted. "You okay?" He panted.

Hermione nodded. "You came," she stated, sounding a little flabbergasted.

Greg shrugged, but it was Harry who answered, his voice a bit jealous: "naturally he came. He's your hero."

"We both are, Harry," Greg responded, his eyes closed, using Harry's first name for the very first time. Harry's eyes widened. Hermione smiled softly.

.

"Don't say a word." Severus Snape snapped at the teenagers.

Hermione and Harry had been shocked for a while, shocked that it was none else than Professor Snape who rescued them from a dozen Dementors by the force of his Patronus. Harry's own Patronus – with a little help from the Incendio Lunaris spells of Hermione and Greg – had been able to keep the abominations at bay for a while, allowing Snape – after Millie awakened him – to reach them just in time. He even saved Black, the whole time his face being a contorted mask of loathing.

However, he wasn't willing to listen to their explanations, wasn't willing to believe their weird story about a rat Animagus. In the end, he silenced them by spell. No, he wouldn't listen to their fantastic story. Sirius Black would pay tonight; pay for everything he did back then in their youth. He deserved to get his soul ripped from his body. And he, Severus Snape, would make sure that it happened.

.

_**Scene 18 – free me**_

.

"Why won't they listen to us?" Hermione whined a little later.

Professor Snape had been adamant about putting them into Madam Pomfrey's caring hands, no doubt mostly to get them out of his greasy hairs while he ushered a still unconscious Sirius Black towards his bleak future in the form of a soul-sucking Dementor. For now, Headmaster Dumbledore had been able to stall the execution, but only until dawn, a last respite before the inevitable end. In Hermione's eyes a real execution would have been far more human than getting his soul sucked out, losing his mind and any emotions still existing after his long Azkaban stint. She had begged and screamed, pleaded and cried, but there was more chance for a chunk of ice in hell than the Minister's heart softening and showing his human side.

"You have to admit that your story is quite a bit…" Millie struggled to find a kind expression.

"Nutter?" Vince asked not very helpful. Hermione glared at him. She turned around and asked Greg: "but you've seen it as well."

Greg shrugged apologetically. "I only saw a small, pudgy man unknown to me who somehow vanished into thin air. You said that it was Pettigrew turning himself into a rat." Hermione inhaled but Greg stopped her. "And I believe you. But it's only my belief. I simply haven't seen it. He was too far away for me to identify him even if they showed me pictures. And in my eyes he simply vanished. I was too distracted by Professor Lupin turning into a Werewolf to pay attention to anything else. I'm sorry, I really am, but I can't help you with this."

Hermione stamped her foot and folded her arms, a defeated pout on her face. Millie and Greg exchanged a glance and shrugged. They could only wait and hope for a miracle.

.

"Miss Bulstrode, Mister Crabbe … Mister Goyle," Professor Snape entered the room, for a second sending Greg a furious glare. For a moment, Hermione had a spark of hope in her eyes at the sound of someone entering, but it lasted only until she recognized the late visitor. It was after midnight already. Ron was deeply sleeping thanks to some potions he got from Madam Pomfrey. Even Harry's troubled mind had found some restless sleep at last, mostly due to sheer exhaustion. He was mumbling in his sleep, certainly having nightmares about Sirius' fate.

"You may go to your dorm." The trio hesitated for a moment. Snape lifted a single eyebrow. "Go! Now! And no dilly-dallying." The trio strolled to the door. Greg sent Hermione a comforting smile.

"What happens to Lord Black, Sir?" Millie wondered loudly. Despite his current criminal status, he still belonged to the noble house of Black and deserved respect in the girl's eyes. It was second nature to use his title.

"He enjoys his last night with his mind intact – intact as much as it could be with him," Snape sneered. Hermione was relieved about Harry still being asleep. He would have been furious about Snape's talk, petty man that he was. "Without Mister Goyle's presence in the forest he wouldn't even have that." Greg gulped. He wasn't certain if Professor Snape was serious about the matter. Certainly, he would have rescued Hermione and Harry from the Dementors anyhow, wouldn't he? "Go!" There was no hesitation this time.

.

"Do you believe her?" Millie whisper-asked Greg. "The story about that man being Pettigrew, and not Black but Pettigrew being the traitor?"

"Yeah," Greg sighed with a convinced nod. "Absolutely. There was no doubt in her voice. She's really convinced of this."

"Shouldn't Professor Lupin be able to confirm the story?" Vince interposed.

"It would be too late for that," Greg denied. "And they wouldn't believe him, not anymore, not with him being Black's youth friend and a Werewolf to add."

Millie agreed, sounding slightly defeated. "He's right. They would believe him no more than us. And his return will be hours too late anyhow."

"Then we have to do something, don't we?" Vince asked. His friends stared at him slightly shocked. "I mean with you being heroes and all. Aren't heroes supposed to protect the innocent?"

Millie groaned. "That's what you get from telling your stories, Greg," she huffed.

Greg grinned. "But he's right. We'll have to do something. Save the poor, helpless Gryffindork and all."

Millie rolled her eyes. "And we'll do. But," she warned the boy. "We'll be Slytherin about it, don't you forget it."

.

_**Scene 19 – Sneak me (out)**_

.

"What are you doing here? At this time to add?" Argus Filch snarled, looking up from the ugly cat on his lap.

He had been sitting on an uncomfortable looking wooden chair not far from a heavy, iron-reinforced wooden door. It had a small barred window to allow someone to glance inside and a strong looking lock, the key hanging on Filch's belt. Argus Filch really looked like one of those morose jailers from some medieval story. A couple of ancient runes were covering the doorframe and lock – certainly to make it impossible to escape via something as simple as an Alohomora spell. For a moment Greg wondered why Hogwarts needed prison cells in the first place. Perhaps Filch's stories about whipping bad behaving students weren't as far-fetched as assumed. He shuddered.

"Shouldn't you be in your dorm right now?" Filch wondered. Despite his grumpy behaviour, he actually liked the boys. More than once he had met them in the kitchen in the middle of the night. Instead of docking points, he usually joined them for a little midnight snack or a cup of tea. Since breaking up with Malfoy, they had changed their behaviour towards him, greeted him respectfully and didn't mock him about being a squib. It certainly helped that they weren't magical powerhouses themselves. The girl usually accompanying them even got along with Mrs. Norris – no small task with the spiteful cat.

"Professor Snape told us about your job tonight," Greg responded, and Vince continued: "we've been in the Hospital Wing until now – damned Gryffindorks." Argus Filch nodded. The Gryffindors were the worst among the students, up to no good, the lot of them.

"He sent us to our dorm," Greg continued with a shrug. "But we wanted to look after you before we went to sleep."

"Be sure that you're alright, Sir," Vince claimed, trying not to look at the prison cell door. The boy looked around. "I don't see any tea?"

"Really?" Greg asked. It was a bit strong, but Filch didn't notice the poor acting. "But it's chilly tonight. That's not right."

"I'll manage," Filch grumbled, slightly touched by the boys' concern.

"No, Sir," Greg shook his head. "You have an important job tonight." He pointed towards the prison cell. "You've to make sure he stays in there. The bastard nearly killed us once already." He shuddered visibly.

Vince rolled his eyes. His friend really had to polish up his acting skills a little. Luckily for them, Filch wasn't the brightest lamp in the shed.

"Paddoc?" Greg called. They only had to wait a couple of seconds before a house-elf appeared with a loud pop. The sound level was dead-proof of how pissed he was about getting disturbed in the middle of the night. Paddoc glared in Greg's direction, his expression softening a little as he recognized the boy. While most students hated or feared this one house-elf – his snark was nearly as biting as Professor Snape's – Vince and Greg liked him well enough. He didn't share the overeagerness most house-elves showed, and he had a sarcastic side the boys really enjoyed.

"What do you want?" Vince grinned at Paddoc's snarled question. Most house-elves would die of embarrassment about such behaviour, but not Paddoc.

"Mister Filch," Greg gestured towards the dour caretaker, "has to stand guard tonight. He really could use a strong, hot tea and perhaps a couple of sandwiches and cookies." _Mjam, cookies_, Vince mused. Paddoc narrowed his eyes to small slits. Greg looked pleadingly and made puppy-eyes.

"Alright," Paddoc snarled and vanished, only to return a few minutes later with a steaming pot of tea and a plate with sandwiches and even a handful of "McVitie's Digestive Dark Chocolate" cookies – the ones that conjured a rare smile on Filch's face.

"Thank you very much," Greg said with a slight bow, before he pointed towards the uncomfortable looking chair. "Could you…?"

Paddoc actually rolled his eyes but complied. With a gesture he turned the wooden chair into a more comfortable but worn looking armchair, complete with pillow and blanket, before he vanished without a word.

"Good night, Sir."

"Yeah," Filch ushered them away, barely looking at them as he sat down with a happy sigh. "Off you go!"

.

"Do you think we've distracted him long enough?" Vince whisper-asked, making certain that no painting was near enough to eavesdrop their conversation.

Greg sighed deeply. "I really hope so. Have you seen those runes on the doorframe?"

Vince nodded. "An opening spell like Millie used last year wouldn't be enough, I s'pose."

"Nope," Greg popped the 'p'.

"Then it's good Millie had another idea," Vince said with a broad grin.

Greg nodded stoically. He wasn't too happy about it. Squandering that special potion on a Gryffindork went against his nature. And he really hated that Millie was far more at risk of being detected than the boys. He sighed again. There was no use pondering it now. They had a job to do: reach the dorm and make certain they had an alibi. His sour expression turned into a smile. At least he could annoy the hell out of Malfoy. The blonde pounce would be pissed about getting woken up in the middle of the night.

_Little joys._

.

Luckily the sky was clouded again and the full moon had no chance to betray her presence to any hidden observers. Millie Bulstrode grinned broadly. Even with Hermione not locked away in the Hospital, Millie would still have been the better girl for this job. Flying had never been the bookworm's forte, and flying she did now. Millie on the other hand, while she would never be part of the Quidditch team being a girl and all, was a hell of a flyer.

Staying close to the wall and avoiding the windows as best as she could, Millie meandered her path around the castle, closing the distance to her chosen destination. She really hoped the boys were able to distract Filch and his mangy cat. Catching her now would raise quite a few questions, would turn this very ugly in no time. With no invisibility cloak at hand and unable to cast a disillusion spell, she had to trust her luck and hope for the best.

There was the window. Millie stopped shortly and glanced around. _Nobody in sight_, she sighed. No alarm was raised, no question asked as she approached the window. A last long look around while hovering just in reach of the rune-covered bars, before she glanced inside, not really seeing much because of the darkness.

"Black? Sirius Black?"

.

"_I need your potion," Millie demanded. The boys had watched her in patient silence while the big girl had been thinking about a way to free the prisoner – an un-stupid, un-rash and un-gryffindorish way to free the man._

_Greg blinked, slightly confused. "We already used it. On the chicken. To turn it into a Hippogriff. Don't you remember?"_

_Millie slapped him on the head not too gently. "The other one, dunderhead."_

"_The other one?"_

"_What are you? A parrot?" Millie grumbled deeply. "Yes, the other one. The potion Penny brewed for turning you into a sabre-tooth tiger."_

"_For what?" Greg wouldn't part with that potion easily._

"_For a flight under the full moon," Millie rolled her eyes again. She loved the boy, but sometimes he was a tad slow. "For freeing that Black-bird; I still have some feathers." _

"_What use could it be to turn him into a Hippogriff? He still couldn't escape."_

"_Not Hippogriff," Millie grimaced. She perused her mostly empty bag until she found what she was looking for. With a victorious smile she held up a bunch of chicken feathers. "Rooster!"_

.

"Yes?"

Millie recoiled at the sudden sound, nearly falling from her broom. The barely visible man cackled. He looked like a maniac with his toothy grin, the dirty rags and that unkempt, long hair. "Serious?" Millie growled.

"Yes, I'm Sirius."

"Not funny," Millie growled, obviously thinking about simply departing again.

Hastily he stopped her. "And you are, fair lady?"

Millie barred her teeth. Only Greg was allowed to call her that, because he was the only one really meaning it. Still, it had been her wish as well to help the man. So, she calmed her fiery temper and stayed. "Millie Bulstrode." His eyes wavered, so he had apparently heard of her father's reputation. Suddenly she felt the urge to distance herself from her father's legacy. "I'm a friend of Hermione Granger."

"Harry's Muggleborn friend?" Millie nodded. The man turned a bit giddy now and started to jump up and down.

"Quiet!" her sharp tongue stopped him immediately, something even his late mother hadn't accomplished. Millie would certainly become a fabulous drill-sergeant one day, should she ever feel the wish to go down that road, or perhaps a head-nurse.

"So," he asked somewhat calmer. "You're a friend of Harry? How is he doing?"

"Alright as far as I know. He was sleeping when we left." She didn't correct his assumption about her being Potter's friend. _As if ever_.

"We?"

"Vince, Greg and I," Millie explained, "Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, my friends."

"Crabbe? Goyle?" He knew the names and didn't like them as well.

"Yes," Millie hissed. "Gregory Goyle – the boy that risked his life to save your sorry arse from that Werewolf."

"Sorry," he looked embarrassed and ashamed. "I didn't know…" Sirius had still trouble there were Slytherins of the non-slimy-bastard kind.

"Doesn't matter," Millie brushed him off. She fished a potion vial out of her pocked and offered it.

"What's that?"

"Poison," Millie dead-panned. The man actually recoiled. Millie's acting skills were far better than Greg's. She rolled her eyes, by far not for the first time tonight. _Men, stupid, the lot of them_. "This is your freedom. Wait for half an hour at least. Then drink, flee, stay safe, and don't come back. Dementors aren't funny."

"No, they aren't," Sirius Black agreed. He warily eyed the potion. "And you're certain about this?"

Millie shrugged. "If you don't believe me, it's your funeral." Only it wouldn't be. He would survive, at least his body would. Sirius Black shuddered. In the end, he had nothing to lose.

"Thank you."

.

"He should be free by now," Millie stated, drinking slowly from a glass of water while sitting on a couch with Greg at her side. Vince and Greg had, as planned, entered the 3rd years dorm with much noise and mayhem, waking everybody and making certain everybody knew they were there. Malfoy's whining had been the icing on the cake, the blonde pounce uttering something about him needing his sleep – _his beauty sleep_, Vince snickered. A couple of minutes later they crept down to the commons to wait for Millie's return.

"I love it when a plan comes together," Greg grinned broadly.

Vince grimaced. "No A-Team for you anymore, Greg. And it was Millie's plan, not yours."

Greg shrugged. "It's how a team works. I'm here for muscles and punching the bad guys. Millie's job is planning, disciplining the bitches out there and an overall feminine touch." Millie blushed a little. Not many students – or family members of hers – had the word feminine in mind when thinking about her. It helped that Greg really meant it.

"And my job?" Vince asked.

"Cheap wits and surprising insights," Greg dead-panned.

"I can do that," Vince nodded.

.

"By the way," Vince asked some time later as they climbed back to their dorm. "How long does it work, this man-to-chicken potion? An hour like the Polyjuice?"

"Man-to-rooster," Greg corrected, pondering for a moment. "You know, I actually never asked Penny." He shrugged. "Black will find out for us."

As he climbed into his bed, Greg felt relief about Black and not him being the guinea rooster. While he loved the idea of turning himself into a sabre-tooth tiger, he wouldn't like to spend the rest of his days as such.

_Or as a rooster._

.

_**Scene 20 – part (from) me**_

.

"I know you have something to do with his escape."

Snape fumed, glaring at the supposed culprits. It didn't help that Potter was absolutely giddy about the news. Granger seemed to be relieved, but to Severus' surprise she looked thunderstruck as well. He had hoped she would be convincible – not towards him but Minister fudge who was listening to the conversation, but this genuine innocence he hadn't expected.

_She has no idea_, he mused. Before his visit, he had assumed Goyle had informed the girl about his plan. _Goyle_, his ire raised again. Later, he would speak with the boy. While Dumbledore made the expected speech about there being no proof and the children having been in the hospital wing the whole night – something Madam Pomfrey confirmed – Snape brushed the girl's mind with a bit of Legilimency. He wasn't surprised to find the beginning of Occlumency shields there. Probably, Greg had started to teach her and loaned a couple of books to the girl. For now, the shields weren't strong enough to keep him out. _She assumes it was him_, Snape learned. _However, she has no idea how he made it happen_.

"We got him once," Minister Fudge drawled, completely skipping the little fact that it had been Snape and not the Ministry who caught the man. "We'll catch him again."

_And next time, there won't be a last-minute escape._

.

"Nothing to say?"

Greg gulped and fidgeted on his seat. He wasn't all too comfortable under Professor Snape's death glare.

"I have no idea what you're talking about?" It started as a statement and ended as a question.

Snape opened drawer, retrieved an empty vial and put it on the table. Greg's eyes widened comically. He knew the vial fairly well. Milly slapped her forehead. How could Black have been so careless, leaving the vial behind instead of dropping it out of the window.

"Exactly my reaction, Miss Bulstrode." Greg and Millie withered under his continued glare. "Why," he growled, "why in Merlin's name did you help a convicted murderer escape? Have you an idea in what kind of trouble you'll be if this ever comes out?"

"But he isn't," Millie dared to object.

Snape's eyes narrowed to slits. "Isn't what?"

"Convicted," she responded with a meek voice.

"He never had a trial," Goyle added.

Snape stayed silent for a moment. He remembered: there had never been anything about a trial back then. Much about his betrayal and how they tossed Black into Azkaban, but nothing about his trial or his reasons. "He's still a murderer. He killed those Muggles and Pettigrew." _Not much of a loss there_. "And he betrayed the Potters." _Black had been responsible for Lily's death_. That alone was reason enough for murderous, life-long hate.

Goyle started to say something, but hesitated. "What? Spit it out."

Greg flinched but obeyed. "He wasn't. Hermione told me."

"Told you what exactly?"

"He wasn't the secret-keeper back then, Pettigrew was. And he didn't kill those Muggles. Pettigrew did, to hide his escape."

"Escape? Pettigrew is dead." There was a hint of doubt in his voice. Snape wanted to believe that Black was the culprit. He had hated him for twenty years.

"Pettigrew is alive. He is a rat Animagus and…"

Snape's hand slammed on the table. "Stop spitting this nonsense."

"It's not nonsense," Millie dared to object. She didn't back down as Snape's glare turned to her, but lifted her chin in defiance. "Hermione saw him herself. Pettigrew is alive. Perhaps Black isn't completely innocent, but this kiss on sight order was horrible. He didn't deserve that, not without a trial."

Snape breathed heavily. As with Granger before, he brushed their minds with Legilimency. He felt a little proud as Goyle was able to mostly block him out. Millie, like that Granger chit, had the beginning of Occlumency shields but nothing more. Snape's eyes widened in surprise as he came upon Millie's memory of the escape. The potion, so this way they had done it. They turned him into a…

Snape bit his lower lip to suppress a cackle. _A rooster, they turned him into a rooster_. Oh, what prosaic turn of events. _Cocky was exactly the word to describe Black_. The humour of the situation did much to deflate Snape's anger. Much calmer than before he wondered: "and you believe all of this?"

"Absolutely," Millie responded.

Greg nodded. "Hermione told us about it. She saw it herself. And she's our friend."

_Friendship between a Slytherin pureblood and a Gryffindor Muggleborn_, Snape felt a tad wistful. _Hopefully this one will end better_.

"Go away," he dismissed them. The teenagers were more than eager to comply.

.

Greg had said his farewell to Luna and Penelope. The former head girl would start her apprenticeship with a French potion master in a couple of months – an apprenticeship Professor Snape had made possible after Penny finally asked for his assistance.

"I'll write you, Luna." The blonde girl hugged him before continuing with Millie and Vince. Her smile was dazzling, her eyes a little teary. She had friends now. She wouldn't be alone again. "Zatanna will be waiting for your owl."

"Wolverine will be happy to oblige." Vince rolled his eyes. Millie smiled benevolently. It was good to have a girl around, with those two big oafs as her best friends. Daphne was coming around as well, lately, but Millie didn't trust her as much. No, Luna would never betray them. She defended Greg despite the danger to herself. Millie wouldn't forget it. "Farewell little moon faerie."

.

"He told them," Harry grumbled. "He told them about Professor Lupin and now he's away." Hermione was sitting with them, but Ron had left as soon as the Slytherins arrived. He still didn't know about their part in Buckbeak's survival and Black's escape, and he still didn't like them.

Greg shrugged. "You have to admit: it was his own fault."

Harry tried to protest but Greg stopped him. "No, Harry. Hermione begged me to give him a chance and I did. We kept our mouths shut about his furry little problem, but he spoilt the chance. It was his duty to take care of the potion, no matter what. He forgot to take it and nearly killed Hermione."

It was no surprise that this fact troubled him the most, and Harry felt a bit guilty himself. Without him and his urge to help Sirius, she wouldn't have been in danger – or Greg.

"I'm all for Werewolf rights," Greg continued under the proud smiles of Millie and Hermione, "but under conditions. In the end, it doesn't help their matter if they kill or infect others. It only helps people like McNair who would love nothing more than be allowed to hunt them down as dangerous beasts.

Harry shuddered at the thought. He sighed. "Perhaps you're right."

"Certainly, he is," Millie smiled proudly. "He's Wolverine."

.

Severus Snape had watched the students' departure. Another summer of peace, another summer without the dunderheads. Next autumn, Penelope Clearwater wouldn't be there again. She had been one of the few minds he hadn't minded to teach. He had liked it even. She was nearly as intelligent as Granger, but far calmer. Under Goyle's guidance the girl was getting better, but she wasn't there already.

For a moment, his thoughts wandered to Millie Bulstrode. He had seen her flying in her mind. She would be a good addition to the team. He sighed. Malfoy, the dunderhead of his godson, wouldn't allow it to happen. What a waste. As long as the boy stayed captain of the team, Slytherin wouldn't get anywhere in Quidditch.

His eyes roamed the countryside around the school, wondering if he would detect Black. He hadn't told anybody about how his childhood nemesis escaped, not even Dumbledore. A malicious smile crossed his face. He knew something, a small but important detail that had been unknown to Goyle. Clearwater – had she known about it? It didn't concern Goyle himself, perhaps the reason why she didn't tell him.

A cackle erupted from his throat. It wasn't a nice cackle, and most students would have fled the scene, fearing for his sanity. Yes, there was this small detail, a fact discussed around the Potioneer community, about the interaction between that special potion and the equally special nature of an Animagus. The Animagus spell did far more than simply allow a wizard to turn into an animal. Instead, it changed the wizard on a very basic level, tuned him in with his animalistic side. Naturally, there hadn't been any extended studies, but the common conviction was that the potion used by Black would interact with the Animagus magic, strengthen it and prolong the duration.

_Could even make it permanent._

Severus Snape cackled again, this time even louder and more maniacally.

_Rooster Black. And may the fox be with you._

.

_**Scene 21 – Welcome me (back)**_

.

"They should arrive in a couple of minutes."

Grace Grabbe acknowledged the statement with a bland nod, while Olivia Bulstrode simply continued shovelling chocolate cookies into her big gob. Abigail Goyle glanced towards the "welcome back buffet". The mountain of cookies and cakes had somehow been melted down to a flat hill by now, with Grace and Olivia doing their best to extinguish the rest before the children arrived – only to protect their health, naturally. Luckily, she had been clever enough to make provision. More plates were waiting in the next room, a couple of them loaded with sausages, bacon and scrambled eggs. Greg loved them and in her motherly opinion he really deserved them.

Yes, today her little boy would return. Only, he wasn't so little anymore. He had a steady girlfriend-nearly-fiancée. He had been able to improve his grades, gathered a group of friends from other houses and did everything to improve his future prospects. And again, he had a couple of adventures that weren't part of the standard curriculum. Abigail Goyle was well-informed about her son's misdeeds. There were a couple of very serious conversations ahead. Learning from the past, she had stayed in close contact with Professor Snape. She even knew about Greg's most dangerous moment. Battling a Werewolf to protect his Muggleborn friend, for real? Abigail had been impressed and frightened at the same time.

"We should have picked them up from the station," Olivia Bulstrode whined a little. She didn't expect any response and didn't get any. It simply wasn't possible to go against their husbands wishes, not without damaging their reputation. You have to preserve appearances, one of them being the "fact" that the husband is the one in charge of the pureblood family. It had been two weeks ago, with the parents gathering for a little early summer garden party, talking about summer plans and what to expect from next year, when Lucius Malfoy started to whine about the trio of friends and their ungrateful behaviour towards his son. He barely avoided using the term blood traitor, demanding from their fathers to call their brats to order. As expected, Goyle, Crabbe and Bulstrode senior gave in without missing a beat. To decide against fetching them from the station was only a first step. It would be a clear sign of their fathers' displeasure.

Their wives obeyed and stayed home, but behind closed doors they made their indignation clearly known. Each of them had their own way to ascertain that their husbands would be more careful with their orders next time. Olivia grated on her husband's nerves with a little whining. Grace revoked any cookie rights of the glutton she had married. And Abigail got a little more direct. Her left hand still hurt a little from the punch she delivered to his jaw, but Goyle senior certainly understood her point – looking up from the ground with his hulking wife towering over him. He had been stupid enough to raise his voice and wand, and regretted both only seconds later.

"I want to finalize the engagement before Greg and Millie return to Hogwarts next fall," Abigail announced without any transition.

Olivia hesitated for a moment, a slice of cake just touching her lips. She put it down and nodded. "My dear husband is agreeable about it. Apparently, he came to his senses at last, and doesn't expect anymore that he would be able to get a better candidate."

Abigail snorted. It was a well-known fact how Bulstrode senior had attempted more than once to convince those among his friend of better standing to engage their sons with his delicate flower of a daughter. As if someone like Malfoy or Nott would ever accept Millie as their daughter-in-law. She had neither the beauty nor the grace of a real pureblood lady, and the Bulstrodes – while fairly well-off – weren't nearly wealthy enough to offer an acceptable dowry. No, Greg Goyle was more or less his best shot to get a suitable finance for his daughter. And they really liked each other, not that this mattered to their fathers. At least, Goyle senior had been clever enough to obey his wife's wishes in the matter without complaint.

"You should proceed with the engagement not later than the middle of August," Grace Crabbe interjected.

"Why?" Abigail wondered.

"At the end of August, there are coming the Quidditch finals."

"And this matters to us because…?"

Grace sighed, her expression turning sour. "Our dear husbands are planning something, something stupid."

"You mean…"

"Yeah," Grace grumbled. Abigail's eyes widened. Grace never used the word "yeah", it was way too unladylike. And she rarely showed her annoyance with her husband like right now. "They plan some show of force with that stupid bunch of sycophants around Malfoy."

"At the finals?" Abigail wondered. "With dozens of Aurors running around?"

Grace shrugged. "Never said it was a clever plan."

"They'll be in so much trouble if they get caught," Olivia worried.

"With a bit of bad luck, they'll earn themselves a stay in one of those cosy prison cells at the DMLE," Abigail clarified.

"And that," Grace concluded, "is the reason why you should finalize the engagement beforehand."

Abigail agreed whole-heartedly. She wouldn't allow her dunderhead of a husband to spoil her little darling's future. Oh no, this wouldn't happen. She had an engagement party to plan.

.

_**Scene 22 – release me**_

.

The black-feathered rooster was resting on one of the lower branches of a one-hundred-year-old oak. Somewhere in the underbrush a fox was hiding. The rooster could neither hear nor see the damned beast, but Sirius simply knew that it was still there. Damned potion. It gave him his freedom and saved his mind, but right now he only wished it would stop working. He already tried to switch into his canine self – several times actually. It simply didn't work, regretfully. Somehow the potion suppressed the ability that had been natural to him since he learnt the Animagus form in his fifth year.

Sirius sighed. He had to wait a little bit longer, it seemed. His wing and foot hurt a little. The prison magic had slightly burned his right wing as he passed the window bars. The injury impaired his flying abilities and made his landing a little rougher than intended, hurting his feet, claws whatever these were called. And now there was this three-damned fox.

_Snuffles would make short work of the beast._ Sirius grinned inwardly, imagining how Snuffles' mighty jaws would rip the fox asunder. Sirius sighed again. At least he was free. The sun was high in the air, a sun that would never watch his soul getting sucked out of his body, a sun that assumedly had been witness to Snivellous' newest temper tantrum upon hearing about Sirius' escape. Hopefully he wouldn't turn on Harry and his friends.

He was still a little surprised about Harry's snake friends – surprised but a little wary as well. _I'll have to speak with him about them. Slytherins can't be trusted. They certainly have some secret agenda._ Sirius nodded. The boy was too trusting. Now, however, his godfather was back. _I'll teach him everything I know_, Sirius smiled inwardly. _It will be like Sirius and James again. And Remus. Yes, it will be great_.

He looked around, his small rooster eyes searching for the hidden beast.

_I only have to wait a little longer. Soon I'll be free. _

_Soon._

.

_**A/N**_

_And here it ends. Year 3 is finished. I don't intend to continue the story as it is. Greg's story was never meant to be a full-fledged AU story of the books but only a little, humorous something. _

_I hope you liked it. See you again with another story, hopefully soon._


End file.
